


Letters For The Dead

by TricksterShi



Series: Home Across the Universe [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Supernatural Illnesses, Werewolves, Witches, sexual identity crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 72,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TricksterShi/pseuds/TricksterShi
Summary: Those who go before us are never really gone, you can find traces of their passing like lanterns in their wake, left to guide us on.~Summer arrives and Beacon Hills and the Stilinski’s are recovering from their near brush with tragedy.  Stiles is hoping for two months of rest and a little less anxiety.  What he gets instead is a new level of grieving, wildly inaccurate rumors about himself, and a sexual identity crisis.  Between all that it's easy to dismiss the symptoms.  It's been a hell of a year, he's allowed to feel under the weather, but he's fine.Really, it's nothing.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Laura Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Original Character(s), Stiles Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski
Series: Home Across the Universe [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978774
Comments: 73
Kudos: 94





	1. Rumor Has It

**Author's Note:**

> I scrambled so hard to get as much of this fic written before work starts tomorrow. I do have other projects that need to be worked but this one isn't content to rest even for a minute so here we are.
> 
> Trigger warnings in this chapter for brief discussion of prostitution and anxiety.

Stiles should not have been by himself out behind the gym.It was a dumb move, he would admit that.But, given the way everyone kept hovering over him, looking at him, whispering about him, he just wanted some peace and quiet.

It was the last day of school, almost a month since Lahey had kidnapped Stiles and his younger self.Almost a month since Stiles died.That made for the second time he had officially died in his short little life.Second time for drowning, too.

He really hoped there wouldn’t be a third.

Stiles rubbed at his sternum and breathed.So long as he could breathe he was fine.He was.And maybe if he said it enough, thought it enough, he could make it true.

He opened the notebook again.It was a new notebook, completely blank, still had the price sticker on the back.Stiles had been carrying it around for over a week now.Dr. Sharon, the therapist he’d been seeing since January, had suggested he get one.Since Lahey, Stiles had been having more anxiety and more vivid dreams.Not exactly surprising, but none of them were about the incident itself.It was all older stuff seeping up. Not just trauma, either, but other memories.

He’d told Dr. Sharon about going up on the roof to be closer to everyone he’d lost.Trying to catch a signal.Not one of the better sessions he’d had with her, that confession had been like pulling teeth to get it out.Stiles still couldn’t talk to any of them.No more than a few words here and there before his body clammed up and he spent half the night suffocating in words that couldn’t go anywhere.

Hence, the notebook.

“Perhaps the words will come easier if you write them down,” Dr. Sharon had suggested.

“What, like a diary?” he’d snarked.

“If you like.Or letters.Sometimes it’s easier to put the words we feel we can’t say down on paper to draw them out.I had one patient who collected post cards and wrote to someone they lost and mailed them to a post office box.Another decided to write stories.Whatever form feels best, get yourself something to give it a home outside your head.”

So.The notebook.Which was still blank after an entire week of Stiles carrying it around, opening it up, and hovering over the lined paper with a pen.It wasn’t for lack of content.The words crowded behind his teeth and lined his throat but none of them wanted to leap off his fingers.Like they were stuck.

Stiles huffed and clicked the pen closed.All he had to do was write something down and he couldn’t even do that.Stiles leaned back against the brick building and tilted his head up toward the sun, eyes closed, and did a breathing excercise.

Maybe today wasn’t the day to start.It was the last day of school, his head was still filled with history facts and dates.Soon Stiles wouldn’t have to set foot in this place until fall.It was a day to celebrate, not mourn.Which he would be doing in earnest tomorrow when Dad came back home.

A shadow moved in front of the sun.

“Hey, isn’t this the kid that murdered Coach Lahey in the woods?”

Stiles opened his eyes and found four seniors standing around him in a semi-circle, caging him back against the wall.He recognized their faces, though their names were slow in coming to him.The one in front of him blocking the sun with his ginormous head was Kyle-something. 

Great.

“Something I can help you with?” he asked.

“Yeah, actually.You’re the creep that murdered the swim coach, right?”

Stiles blinked up at Kyle-something and kept his mouth shut.He’d been here before over the past few weeks.It wouldn’t do any good to defend himself with words.

“Just settle a bet for me,” Kyle-something glanced between his other cronies, who snickered.“Word is that you got him out there promising a good time.Did you fuck him or did he fuck you?”

“Lahey stuck it to him,” Cronie with a bowl cut said.“I mean, he’s got the mouth for it.Everyone knows he’s had the experience, too.Used to blow truckers up and down the 515 is the way I heard it.”

The other cronies laughed and Stiles clenched his hands into fists. 

It was only a matter of time before details leaked from the incident with Lahey.In the back of his mind, Stiles was surprised the cover story about being trafficked had stayed under wraps as long as it had.Neither brought him any comfort in the moment.It was the wrong damn day for the two to converge.

Stiles lashed out with his good leg, rolled, and came up swinging as Kyle-something landed on his ass in the dirt.Hands grabbed at him but he twisted, ducked, and then came back around, landing hits to sensitive areas until all of them were writhing on the ground coughing, curling into themselves, or groaning.As he stood over them, Stiles heard a warning siren in the back of his head to be careful, be smart.

They were just teenagers.Stupid, idiotic, not worth it teenagers.

He slowly unclenched his fists.

Stiles kicked at Kyle-something’s leg and towered over him.Kyle-something had blood at the corner of his mouth and shrank from Stiles.

Stiles swallowed against a wave of nausea.

“Come at me again and I’ll show you exactly what kind of things I learned out there.They’ll definitely make you walk funny for a week.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Stiles kept an eye on them as he gathered his things and left them in the dirt, limping back to the double doors.When he entered the school again the final bell rang out across campus, signaling an end to the semester and the school day in general.

Everyone in the halls gave him a wide berth, as they had ever since he returned after Lahey’s attack.Reactions at school and around town were mixed at best.People either pitied him, ignored him, or suspected he was bad news and brought Lahey’s attack upon himself.

Unfortunately, most of the senior and junior class of the high school remembered Lahey as their swim coach.Those who’d liked Lahey as a teacher decided the whole thing was a coverup by the department and Stiles was at fault for Lahey’s death.There was no way a beloved teacher could have attempted murder.Even most of the teachers didn’t want to believe Lahey was at fault.

Those who hadn’t liked or ever met Lahey still kept Stiles at arms length, not that he was trying to get close to anyone.Whispers followed him in the halls.People avoided touching him or speaking to him directly.Pretty much the only people who didn’t treat him like a pariah were Derek, the cafeteria ladies, the principal, counselor, and Coach Finstock.

Derek had gotten quieter and a little angrier as the weeks had gone on.People had started avoiding him, too.Stiles had his suspicions as to why. Stiles never saw him with busted knuckles but certain people ended up at the nurse's office sporting black eyes and busted lips. Those people tended to never stay long in the same space as Stiles after that.

Derek, even though they shared no classes, was usually in the hallways somewhere and touched base with him multiple times a day, even if it was just to brush against his shoulder for a second before he was gone again. 

Scent marking, the same way Laura did when she picked them up in the mornings.

Coach had been the most surprising.On Stiles’s first day back Coach had taken him aside and, in a rare show of lucid sanity, asked how he was doing.He’d been so serious Stiles had been too shocked to stutter out more than an okay.

“Gym’s always open,” Finstock had said and gave him a Look that tried to convey more than the words themselves.“It’s good to have my equipment rat back.”Then he’d clapped Stiles on the shoulder and left to yell at the basketball players doing suicides.

Mrs. Hoagel, the head baker in the cafeteria, had straight up given Stiles one of her cupcakes she always hoarded for the kitchen and never shared with students.It kept happening, too, so Stiles wrapped up one his second day back and left it on Finstock’s desk.

Stiles got an A in gym and enough extra credit in Econ that he passed, despite having fallen behind severely with everything that had gone on.

The rest of his classes were a little more iffy.He’d worked hard to catch up and felt he probably scraped a passing grade in most of them.So much for coasting by like he’d originally thought back in January.January felt like it had been a whole other decade.

Derek met him on the front steps.Leaning on the rail, hands in his pockets, he pushed off as soon as he saw Stiles come out and fell into step with him, slinging an arm around Stiles’s neck as they descended the steps into the parking lot.He sniffed and glanced at Stiles.

“Something happen?”

There was a growl in his voice now.Some days it was enough to remind Stiles of his Derek.

“I handled it.Just some assholes running their mouths.”

Derek’s lips thinned and he tugged Stiles closer.

That had been happening a lot since their return to school.Werewolves were handsy on a good day but Derek and Laura seemed to have made it their personal mission to lay claim to Stiles in public whenever they were out and about.It certainly gave the rumors flying around about him an interesting twist. 

Stiles didn’t mind it, though.It was grounding for him and it was calming for them.Since the preserve, Derek and Laura had closed in around Stiles.Circling the wagons, as it were.They came over to the house most nights and weekends and more often than not the three of them ended up in Stiles’s room talking or just existing together. 

“Well, we are officially free,” Stiles said, hoping to lighten the mood.“You ready for summer, sourwolf?”

Derek thumped his shoulder at the nickname.“Definitely.It’s gonna be a busy couple of weeks, though.The pack always throws a big run together the weekend of the fair.Lots of planning and prep in my future.”

Stiles wasn’t much on crowds but he was looking forward to that.He hadn’t actually been out to meet the pack proper at all yet.Partly due to timing, but partly because Stiles knew they were waiting on him.He, and Dad and Mini-Stiles, were all accepted as pack but they needed to be welcomed in officially and Dad had left the choice of when up to Stiles, whenever he decided he was ready.

He hadn’t given it much thought before Lahey.He had probably been avoiding it, actually.But now, after Lahey, Stiles was almost ready to.He was ready to make some more connections.

Laura honked and waved from where she was parked.Stiles climbed into the back seat with Mini-Stiles and Scott, who were digging into paper bags of end-of-year goodies they got from their class parties.

“Congrats, guys, you are officially done with junior year.Next year you’re gonna be the big boys on campus,” Laura said, grinning as she pushed her sunglasses up her nose.

“Har har,” Derek said and rolled his eyes.

“Well, at least it’ll be more fun than junior year.Mine was.”

“You spent most of it making out with Skeet Henry, it’s a wonder you graduated at all,” Derek said.

Stiles perked up.“Who is this Skeet Henry and why have I not heard of him before?”

Laura dragged her sunglasses down and caught Stiles’s glance in the rear view mirror.It was a _tread carefully_ kind of look.Stiles smiled back because it was rare to have something to tease Laura about.Stiles was highly remiss in his friendship duties for that oversight.

“Because I dumped his ass after graduation.”

“And moved on to Skylar Davis.”Derek made a gagging noise.

Laura punched Derek’s arm.“You need to hush your mouth, Der-Bear.”

“And who is Skylar Davis?”

“He’s some dude who works next to the Hale law office,” Mini-Stiles supplied and stuffed a Tootsie Roll in his mouth.“Laura goes _goo goo_ over his muscles because they’re bigger than his head.”

“I do not go goo goo,” Laura growled, face heating up.

“Aww, do you have a crush?” Stiles reached forward to tug on her braid.

Laura swatted at him.

“She does, it’s disgusting.You should hear her go on and on and on about Skylar’s butt.How is a butt even cute?It’s a _butt_.”

Laura stopped the car at the edge of the lot and twisted around in the seat.“Have you been listening in on my phone conversations?”

Mini-Stiles beamed.“You’re loud when you talk to Rachel, you can’t blame me for overhearing how _hot_ and _oh so juicy_ you think Skylar is.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed.“I will end your life, little Stilinski.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth,” Derek muttered.

Mini-Stiles bared his teeth and mock growled.“Try it, I got a wizard on my side.”

Both Laura and Mini-Stiles looked over at Stiles.Furious honks sounded from behind them.Stiles considered his options.

“You might want to tone it down a bit, short stack.She’s faster than both of us.”

Mini-Stiles huffed.“Weenie.”

“Survivor.”

Mini-Stiles’s jabs must have pissed Laura off more than he realized, she was quiet and grumpy by the time she dropped them off with Scott at Scott’s house. 

“I’ll text you later about this weekend,” Derek said.

Because the first Stilinski-Hale-McCall game night had been such a success everyone agreed it should be a regular thing to happen, especially now that summer was there.That weekend was going to celebrate the end of school as well as Dad’s official new position as acting sheriff.It was going to be much like the first one, although Shawn had declared a ban on Uno.

Shawn was the real weenie out of everyone.

“There’ll be brownies as long as I can keep these two out of them,” Stiles said.

Derek grinned and then he and Laura were off.

“Come on!I’m starving!” Mini-Stiles said as he and Scott raced inside.

Stiles rolled his eyes and followed at a more sedate pace.

Dad was gone, off at a sheriff’s conference in San Francisco that had started on Monday.He would be back in the morning and so they had been at the McCall place since Sunday night.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I would just feel better if an adult was there,” Dad said before he left.

That grated a little but it wasn’t like Stiles couldn’t see where he was coming from.Dad would have camped a unit outside all night if he could have gotten away with it.As it was, he already had increased patrols through the area. 

Paranoia was a deep family trait.

But it wasn’t too bad.Melissa would be back around midnight, so until then all Stiles had to do was keep an eye on the boys, throw something together for dinner, and chill out.

No more school.No more assholes whispering about him.No more cramming for finals.Just the start of two months of hanging out with friends, family, and torturing Shawn at random intervals.

Stiles wanted to feel relief.He couldn’t quite get there, though.

Everyone had been wound up tight since the kidnapping.Even with Lahey dead there was a sick sort of anticipation bubbling under the surface of things.He’d been careful not to let himself feel too happy again, or get too complacent.Dr. Sharon had been working on that with him and, of course, she told Dad, and that led to him trying to convince Stiles that he damn well could be happy and not trigger a disaster or an apocalypse.

Stiles was trying to believe that.It was a long road and he had so much evidence to stack up against what Dad and Dr. Sharon were telling him.But he was also tired.The whole thing with Lahey had taken a big chunk out of Stiles, metaphorically, and he didn’t quite have the hole filled in yet.

It was similar to how he’d felt after they left his Beacon Hills burning behind them.The main threat was gone but there would always be another.And another.And another.His insides were scraped raw.His skin stretched thin.Some of that was from trying to make sure he dragged his grades enough to pass because he didn’t want to do summer school or get held back.He didn’t want to spend anymore time in that building than he had to.

The most he wanted out of the summer was rest.Stiles didn’t want to keep feeling like this.If he could convince his mind to give it to him then he might be a little more prepared for senior year.Or, hell, even just in general.

And, if he wanted to be extra honest, he was a little more keyed up than usual because Dad was gone.Stiles hadn’t realized just how much he’d started actually depending on Dad to be there and accessible all the time until this stupid conference came up.

It was more than a little embarrassing.Most kids his age would have celebrated for a little time away from their parents.Even Stiles had been like that, once upon a very long time ago.

Mini-Stiles poked at him and Stiles came back to the present.

“Feeeeeed us,” Mini-Stiles whined.

Stiles sighed and popped his neck.“Slop time for hungry, hungry hippos coming up.”

“Eww, not slop, that’s disgusting,” Scott said.

It was barely twelve-thirty so Stiles threw together sandwiches and chips and after they ate the boys started up the game console in the living room.Stiles switched on and off with both of them until his exhaustion got the better of him.He tried to stay awake but he kept nodding off.Eventually, he ended up stretched out on the couch and dozed.Not quite asleep but as close as he was likely to get.

The boys began poking and whispering at each other when they noticed and then quietly snuck away upstairs.All they did was go to Scott’s room and close the door.They’d been doing that a lot lately, having secret meetings and trying to be sneaky and they were definitely up to something but so far it didn’t seem dire. 

Once they started acting nonchalant while together and far too casual then he would start worrying.That’s when whatever harebrained thing they were planning would go into action.

Stiles came out of his nap some time later when a presence brushed the edge of the boundary spells on the McCall property.Stiles’s eyes snapped open and he sensed out the lines of his protection spells.It was a car parked at the edge of the driveway, idling.When no one got out he leveraged himself up and peeked out the window.

Stiles didn’t recognize the dark sedan.They continued to idle at the curb, the windows tinted just enough that he couldn’t see who was driving it, either.A thrum of paranoia pooled in his stomach.He wouldn’t have pegged Kyle-something or his buddies to follow him and seek retribution in the middle of the day on a fairly active street.

Stiles pressed a hand to the wall and sought out the braided layers of his spell work. 

He had strengthened the charms around all the houses of his former pack members before Lahey kidnapped him but afterward he had worked in rotating intervals to strengthen the wards around the McCall and Stilinski houses even more. 

Stiles’s senses traveled along the lines that ran through the house, connected down the porch, and then ran into the ground of the property itself all the way to the curb.The car wasn’t quite touching the curb but he got a vague sense of only one person in the car.Someone older, an adult.The window was cracked and they were smoking a cigarette.

There was no way of telling who was in the car or what they wanted.It could just be someone who pulled over to look at directions.Or maybe they were looking at the houses for sale or rent across the street.Or maybe they were casing the neighborhood for nefarious purposes.

Or maybe they were watching the McCall house because they were more Lahey apologists and wanted to do something horrible to Stiles and the boys.

Stiles really wished Dad were back.He was almost tempted to call Shawn.High school bullies were one thing, most of them had no clue how to be a proper threat, buthe wasn’t at school right now.Anyone could be in that car and the boys were upstairs and they didn’t need the fear or aggravation of someone with a chip on their shoulder about Lahey ruining their day.

Stiles breathed in and breathed out.He reached through the protection spell and stretched it, just a bit, until it touched the wheel of the car.He imagined the car as a conductor, a lightning rod, and pressed the intense desire to leave the neighborhood through it.

For a few minutes nothing happened.Then, as his energy began to flag and a headache spiked behind his eyes, the car shifted gears and pulled away.Stiles eased out of the spell and watched the car roll on and turn the corner.

Something warm dripped down Stiles’s upper lip.He pressed the back of his thumb to his nose and went to the kitchen sink to clean up the blood.It only lasted a minute or two. 

Ever since Lahey there had been a shift in Stiles’s magic.It had a new undercurrent to it.It ran deeper than it had before, almost as if there were more of it.Despite that, it wore Stiles out quicker than usual to use it too much.Probably because the whole confrontation, fighting, and, well, _dying_ had taken a hard toll on his body.

He needed to lay off any more direct magic for a few days and then ease back into it.With any luck, and once Dad came back and things settled into normal, he’d be able to sleep better and replenish his strength.Maybe even manage to bed down some of his hyper vigilance.

The last one was probably a pipe dream, but Stiles would have Derek and Laura around way more than normal.Werewolf sleepovers had a distinctly positive affect on his sleeping pattern, not to mention it kept the nightmares to a minimum for all involved.

He gave himself a careful once over in the mirror before he headed upstairs to check on the boys.

They were still holed up in Scott’s room.Mini-Stiles shoved something under the bed and hushed Scott as Stiles came in.They both beamed up at him, perfect embodiments of _nothing going on here, nothing to see._

“Oh good, you’re up.We wanna go to the park,” Mini-Stiles gushed before Stiles could even open his mouth.

“Yeah, I got some lacrosse sticks at a garage sale last week and I want to try them out,” Scott continued.

Stiles winced as his headache spiked again and he wracked his brain for ideas before landing on one.“Sorry, guys, my head is killing me.But I may have a suggestion,” he said as their faces fell.

“What?” asked Mini-Stiles.

“Have either of you ever made a trebuchet before?”

“What’s a trebuchet?” Scott asked. 

And that was how the boys got a crash course in medieval siege weapons while making a mini version from common household items for the afternoon.

“Where did you learn to make one of these?” Scott asked as they assembled two of them.

“Research paper for human anatomy a couple years back,” Stiles said and stuck his tongue between his teeth as he dabbed hot glue onto the popsicle sticks and pencils making up the frame.

“How is that even connected?” Scott asked.

“Well, the assignment was on the cardiovascular system and I was bored so the paper turned into the effects of medieval siege weapons on the human cardiovascular system.”

Scott raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, the teacher gave me the same look but I still got credit for turning in the paper.Plus, everyone liked the models I made.”

Once they were assembled he set them up at the table and let the boys loose on them.

“Volley!” Mini-Stiles yelled and released the trigger.The trebuchet flung a marble across the kitchen and managed to knock Scott’s Superman figurine back a few paces but not off the table.

“Keep adjusting your angle, you want to hit just the right spot to upset his gravity,” Stiles called as he downed a couple of Tylenol and started on supper.

That kept the boys occupied well into the evening and then it was late.The boys went upstairs to bed, groaning all the way about how it was summer and that meant no bed times.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re up early tomorrow to get Dad from the airport and I’m not gonna listen to you complain about how we aren’t morning people all the way there.”

Mini-Stiles stuck his tongue out at him but trudged up the stairs with Scott.It was ten o’clock, anyway, which was later than Dad let him stay up.He ought to have been grateful.

Stiles cleaned up downstairs and camped out on the couch.He was still minutely aware of the boundary spell, checking it every few minutes as he flipped channels and eventually stopped on an Italian cooking show.He would have loved to sleep but he was too wound up for that. 

Melissa came home a little after one.

“Hey, kid.The monsters asleep?”She dropped her keys and coat off by the door.

“Yup.There’s some casserole in the oven if you’re hungry.”

Melissa dropped a hand on his head as she passed the couch.“Thanks, I’m starving.”

Stiles followed her into the kitchen and sat at the table.

“How was work?”

Stiles had become more comfortable and a little less guilty being around Melissa since they had stayed with her for the week.Stiles still had guilt over his Scott.Always would.But after two days of subconscious guilt cleaning Melissa had taken him aside, hugged him, and said, “You’re a teenage boy, not a Stepford wife.Stop freaking me out, okay?Don’t make me call someone in to exorcize you.”

It was such a Melissa thing to say that it made him laugh and he had to admit she was right.It helped that little Scott was there, being his sweet, oblivious Scotty self.Even when Scott was being his annoying little self as a chipper morning person or forgetting to turn the faucet off or waiting until he was next to Stiles and loosing a truly awful smelling fart.

Stiles had no idea what Scott was eating but holy hell he could make someone’s eyes water.

“Well, kids are already up to no good and it hasn’t even been a full day of summer yet.Two broken arms, a botched bike racing incident, and someone thought it would be a bright idea to play with fire.And that was only the first half of my shift.”

Stiles pulledface.“Yikes.”

Melissa’s eyes landed on the remains of the epic Battle of Medieval Superheroes.

“What was going on here?”

“Nothing much, just teaching them about physics and siege weapons.Score for being educational and fun.”

Melissa poked at the trebuchet and hit the trigger.She jumped back when it swung and released the marble, which bounced off the wall, along the floor, and went under the couch.She gave Stiles a flat look.

“Please tell me no one lost an eye.”

Stiles plastered on a sheepish grin.

“Well, if they had we could have switched to playing pirates.”

The expression she gave him was unimpressed but her lip twitched like she wanted to smile.She smacked his shoulder and pulled the casserole dish out of the over.“You are a mess.”

They chatted a bit more about the gross stuff that had happened on her shift and how Stiles thought he’d done on finalsIt was nice being able to talk to her again.And also in a setting other than a hospital where she was poking, prodding, or dosing him with drugs.

“Mm, you know, I may just keep you here when your Dad comes back,” Melissa said as she finished her dinner.“I could use a live in cook.”

“Cool, that’ll give me time to build a bigger version of the trebuchet so we could chuck pumpkins across the backyard.Scott’s excited to see them explode.”

Melissa pointed a fork at him.“On second thought, your Dad can have you back.And if you try to construct that I will make your next set of shots a highly unpleasant experience.”

“That’s child abuse!”

Melissa raised an eyebrow.“I know the sheriff, he’ll look the other way.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and laughed.“On that note, I’m going to bed and locking the door, crazy lady.”

“Don’t forget to set your alarm.If I have to wake up because Shawn is ringing the doorbell you’ll really see some crazy.”

Stiles saluted her and checked the boundary spell again as he shut off the TV, did a lock and window check, and headed upstairs.Scott and Mini-Stiles were sacked out in Scott’s bed, both snoring.He turned in on the inflated mattress in the guest room.Melissa made her way upstairs a while later.Stiles tracked her as he began to doze until she settled in as well and turned out her light.

Only then did his mind deem it okay to give in and he went to sleep.

~

Shawn came by the next morning around six to pick them up.Scott hugged them sleepily and then went to watch cartoons, cradling a bowl of cereal on his lap.Melissa was still fast asleep and they were quiet about leaving.

Stiles’s headache was back, it felt like an elephant had stepped on his head during the night, so he got a large coffee from the gas station while Shawn gassed the cruiser.

“You party it up last night?” Shawn asked, taking in Stiles's slow and grumbly mood.

“Oh, yeah.Shotgunned chocolate milk and danced on the tables,” Stiles muttered. 

He wished he had thought to snag some more Tylenol from the medicine cabinet before they left.He’d been a bit busy scrubbing a small bloodstain out of the pillowcase, though.His nose had started bleeding a little during the night.

“Always knew you were a wild child.”

Stiles flipped Shawn off and sipped on his coffee.

The ride to the airport was a good forty-five minutes.It was on the southern edge of Beacon Hills where new construction was starting to turn swaths of old farmland into stores and a housing development.Roadwork stalled them out at several points, forcing traffic to a crawl.

By the time they got to the airport Stiles still felt a little shitty but he was awake and ready for things to go back to normal.They waited by the large floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the air strip.The Beacon Hills airport wasn’t as busy as most other places but it had something coming or going almost every hour. 

Mini-Stiles pressed his face up against the glass to watch the people on the strip move luggage around and twirl their lighted batons to direct the planes.

“It looks like that one is his,” Shawn said, glancing between the arrival board and the plane landing at the far end of the strip. 

Stiles stood up a bit straighter and craned his neck.The plane was small, so everyone got off with one of the moving staircases and walked across the tarmac to the entry doors.

“Ooh, ooh, I see him!”Mini-Stiles tugged on Stiles’s sleeve and pointed.

Dad disappeared through another door and a few minutes later he was walking towards them through a large hallways next to security.

Mini-Stiles took off running and waving at the same time.He hit Dad and nearly bowled him over.Stiles was right behind him and Dad drew him in to a crushing hug.

“I guess I was missed,” Dad said.

“Just a little,” Shawn said from behind them.

Stiles squeezed Dad and something inside his chest relaxed.Now everything was the way it needed to be.

“How was the trip?” Stiles asked when he let go and grabbed Dad’s bag.

“The conference was fine, but I am not made for big city traffic.That was more stressful than anything I’m prepared to deal with.”

“Did you ride one of the trolleys at least?” Mini-Stiles asked.

“No, I didn’t get the chance to do that.But I learned a lot about upcoming technology and new evidence processing methods, so I have three updated protocol binders to drill into the rest of the deputies.”

“Is that why it feels like you’re hauling bricks?” Stiles asked as he shouldered Dad’s pack with difficulty.

“Joy,” Shawn drawled.

They got Dad loaded into the cruiser and headed back to their side of Beacon Hills.The next stop was the store to pick up party essentials.No one had been at the house in a week so there was probably only crackers and peanut butter. 

At the store Mini-Stiles hung onto Dad and chatted his ear off about the last week of school and the party they had in class.Stiles peeled off to get milk and other stuff for breakfast.Shawn went with him.

“You sure you’re doing okay?You still look a bit off.”

Stiles shrugged.“Finals kind of kicked my ass this week, that’s all.I think my brain is just overtired.”

“Yeah, that’s one thing I don’t miss about high school.Well, that and everything else.”

Stiles added some eggs to the cart.“You didn’t like high school at all?”

“Hell no.I didn’t get my full growth spurt until after graduation.High school was just a horribly necessary stepping stone for me.I am much happier as an adult.”

“Huh.”

Shawn raised an eyebrow.“What?”

“I dunno.I always kind of figured you’d have been one of the popular kids.Definitely a jock.”

“Hah!” Shawn shook his head.“No way.I managed the stage crew in theater and I was the shortest in my graduating class.”

That completely shifted Stiles’s world view.

“How short?”

Shawn put him in a headlock and knuckled his head.“Too short to have done that at the time.”

Stiles pushed him off.“So you got tall and became a late bloomer jock.And you like being an adult even though you have taxes and stuff?”

“One of my cousin’s runs a tax service, I just have to remember to keep all my receipts, but that’s the gist of it.”Shawn looked through the canned biscuits and put a can of cinnamon rolls in the cart.Stiles took it out and replaced it with the orange marmalade kind.“Still, the holidays were nice back then.Adulthood doesn’t get as many of those, so enjoy it while you can.”

Stiles caught a glimpse of his reflection in the milk cooler door.He was getting some bruised bags under his eyes.“I kinda plan to sleep a lot.”

“That’s smart, enjoy that while the rest of us are working for our money.”

They met back up with Dad and Mini-Stiles at the check out.Mini-Stiles grinned as they pooled everything on the conveyer belt.

“We got everything for s’mores.”

“I was already making brownies, dude.”

“I know.S’mores _and_ brownies together.It’s gonna be awesome!”

Stiles foresaw much hyperactivity in the near future.

“Oh, crap, I forgot the bread.Stiles, will you go get a couple loafs?” Dad said.

Mini-Stiles smacked Stiles’s arm.“Race you!”

Stiles rolled his eyes and followed, snagging his younger self by the back of his shirt and dragging him back for a headlock as they got to the bread.

“Cheater.”

Stiles knuckled his head and grabbed a couple loafs from the top shelf, dropping them down for Mini-Stiles to catch.

“I still can’t believe the things they said Coach Lahey did.I don’t think that man had it in him to do such a thing, especially to a child,” someone said down the aisle by the jelly.

“Of course he didn’t!I had him for three years in swim and he was the best teacher.There’s no way any of that crap is true.I bet you anything that kid made it up to get out of something else.I mean, my little sister goes to school with him.He’s definitely got some mental issues going on, he shouldn’t even be out in public he’s such a freak.”

Stiles went rigid as the voices, two college aged girls, went about their shopping.Mini-Stiles puffed up and dropped the bread.Stiles covered his mouth and grabbed his arm.

“Don’t,” he warned. 

This wasn’t a secluded area of the high school or a group of dumb seniors.Stiles wanted to cover his younger self’s ears and shuffle him away before they heard much more.He swallowed against the sudden thought of those girls saying the same thing Kyle-something had.Mini-Stiles didn’t need to hear that kind of nastiness.

Mini-Stiles shrugged off his hand.

“You’re just going to let them say that about you?About what happened?It’s not true!”

“Hey.Hey, look at me.”Stiles gave him a shake until his younger self finally looked up.“It doesn’t matter what they think, okay?They weren’t there.We were and we know what happened.That’s what matters.”

“They don’t even know you.They shouldn’t be talking like that.”Mini-Stiles raised his voice and glared around Stiles’s arm.

Stiles pursed his lips.

“People run their mouths when they think they have something to say.All it does is show their petty ignorance, alright?Fuck ‘em.Their brains are nothing buthandful of peas rattling around in their skulls, anyway.”

Mini-Stiles wouldn’t so much as crack a smile.Stiles sighed and handed him the bread he’d dropped.The conversation between the girls had cut off and they were probably staring if the prickle along the back of Stiles’s neck said anything.He didn’t bother turning around. 

“Come on, dude.Dad’s home and we’re gonna have a great party with everyone who actually matters and it’s gonna kick off a great summer.Besides, we gotta show him the trebuchet we made.He’s gonna like it.”

Dad was almost done checking out when they got back.Shawn had gone to bring the cruiser around to load up.Mini-Stiles was still fuming but he managed to rally a bit so Dad didn’t notice.Stiles took over the mindless chatter, peppering Dad with questions about the conference until they were home and got everything unloaded.

Stiles tried to joke around and poke at Mini-Stiles while they put food away.But he hit his limit and snapped, “I’m going upstairs.”

Stiles cringed inside as Dad and Shawn watched him go and then turned to Stiles for an explanation.

“You guys fighting again?”

Stiles sighed and put the milk away.“It’s nothing, I’ll go talk to him.”

“Hey.”Dad caught his arm, concerned.“What happened?”

“Everything is fine.Someone—he overheard someone talking trash at the store.It just upset him, that’s all.”

“Talking trash about what?” Dad demanded, putting a hand on his hip.

Shawn, subconsciously, mirrored the action and Stiles found his shoulders hunching up being the center of all their very pointed attention.

“Me.And the Lahey thing.That’s all, it’s fine, they were just stupid people talking.”Great.Now Dad and Shawn were both looking like they wanted to read someone the riot act.“I’m gonna go up and talk to him.”

Stiles made his escape before either could call him back or, worse, ask how often it happened.He took the stairs two at a time and found Mini-Stiles’s door closed.Stiles knocked.No answer.After a moment he pushed it open.

Mini-Stiles was on the floor at the foot of his bed viciously using his Batman figurine to beat up little green army men scattered on the carpet.

Stiles eased down next to him and stretched out his bad leg.Mini-Stiles ignored him andhad Batman stomp on an army man until it bent the small barrel of its gun.Stiles didn’t say anything while Batman wrecked terrible vengeance until that wasn’t enough and Batman went sailing across the room where he bounced off the corner of the dresser.

“You shouldn’t let people say crap like that about you,” he said.“You shouldn’t just sit there and take it, you have to stand up for yourself or they’re gonna—they’ll…”

“They’ll what?”

Mini-Stiles blew out a harsh breath.“Or they’ll think it’s true and it’s _not_.It’s not right for them to do that.”

Mini-Stiles’s voice broke on the last part.Stiles put an arm around him and tugged.

“C’mere.”

Mini-Stiles ended up between Stiles’s knees.He pulled his younger self into a backwards hug.It was oddly reminiscent of how they’d been in Lahey’s trunk but Stiles found it was easier for both of them to talk to each other when things got serious if it was like this.Neither of them had to look the other in the eye but they were still close and there was comfort in that.

“I can’t fight everyone who thinks it’s true.People are gonna believe what they want, especially because most of them liked Lahey.”

“But he did it.He was a monster and if he was alive he’d have been put in prison.”

“I know,” Stiles murmured.“But he’s dead and he doesn’t have to answer for himself.So I have to.And Lahey lived here all his life, you know?People all over town knew him and he showed one face to them.They never saw the face he had at home with Isaac, or the one he had with us.People don’t like to think someone could dupe them, so it’s easier for them to blame me.”

“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.”

It was.But Stiles had seen it in action more than once.He’d even been a perpetrator of it back when his Derek arrived after Laura’s murder and Stiles had refused to consider he was anything but a murderer until he finally got a clue and some compassion.

Stiles wished, for about the millionth time, that he had handled Lahey better back in the fall.That he hadn’t been so damn _arrogant_ in the store before Christmas when Lahey confronted him.How could he have not realized he needed to put more safeguards into place?How could he have let it slip his mind to go back and check on the transference spell?

There were so many things Stiles could have done that might have prevented the incident in the preserve.

“Do you still think it was your fault?” There was a hard edge to Mini-Stiles’s voice.

Stiles sighed.“Dude, leave it.”

Mini-Stiles was infuriatingly perceptive when he decided to be and ever since the incident he’d been studying Stiles like he was being graded on it.There’d been a few blow ups about that.Mini-Stiles liked to poke at things.And he would poke and poke until he had enough to guess from.It was almost like dealing with Dad at the cabin; Mini-Stiles had the same level of mental acuity but less than half the emotional experience or maturity.

“Because it wasn’t and you’re the stupid one if you keep thinking it was.”Mini-Stiles settled back firmly against Stiles and huffed.“If I could control what someone thought it wouldn’t be those jerks in the store, it would be you.Get you to see sense for once.”

Stiles felt insulted and oddly warmed by the sentiment.

“Hey, I see plenty of sense.”

“You sure don’t use it often.Besides, you need to stop being dumb on my account.All your untrue angst is gonna give me a complex.”

Stiles scoffed.

“A complex?You don’t even know what a complex is, you brat.” 

“Do, too, I looked it up in the dictionary.Your picture was in there beside the definition: likely to give his younger self a complex due to completely curable stupidity.”

Stiles pinched his side.Mini-Stiles elbowed him in the gut.It devolved into slaps and fingers digging into sensitive ticklish spots until Stiles was laid out on the floor and Mini-Stiles pinned him down.He poked at Stiles between the eyes.

“I will bite your finger off if you do that again.”

“What, this?” Mini-Stiles poked him several more times.

Stiles flipped them over and managed to get on his feet and sling Mini-Stiles up and over his shoulder, his leg twinged but held.Stiles reached up and smacked his ass, eliciting a yelp of outrage.

“Tell you what, I’ll stop being dumb tonight if you lose the attitude so we can have a good party with Dad, okay?”

Mini-Stiles squirmed around and slapped Stiles’s back.

“Fine, you jerk.Let me down.”

“Nah.”

He tromped down the stairs with Mini-Stiles grousing about the undignified treatment until he got to the living room.Dad and Shawn were there and looking way too serious so Stiles grinned bright at them.

“Hey, Shawn, someone here has a severe deficiency in getting tickled.”

Mini-Stiles gasped and tried to squirm away.“Don’t you dare!”

Shawn took his cue and swooped in to attack Mini-Stiles who became a flailing pile of limbs.Shawn took him and tossed Mini-Stiles on the couch where he bounced with an _oomph_ before Shawn continued his attack.

“You two good now?” Dad asked in an undertone.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded.For now they were.

Dad squeezed Stiles’s neck in a way that conveyed they’d be talking later about what happened at the store.It wouldn’t be until at least tomorrow, though.

“I don’t think he’s the only one whose deficient,” Dad announced, which stopped Shawn in his tracks while Mini-Stiles gasped through laughter.

Stiles managed to twist out of Dad’s sudden hold but Shawn caught him at the back door and dragged him back to the living room.Then Dad got a hold of him again and Stiles struggled as it became a tragically unfair battle of three against one.Mini-Stiles licked his finger and stuck it in Stiles’s ear.

“Wet willy!”

Stiles was not proud of the sound he made.

“All right, I think that’s enough.Hale, we’ve got burgers to prepare if we plan to feed anyone tonight.”

Dad pulled Stiles up off the floor while Mini-Stiles leapt up and said, “Wait!I have something to show you first!”

He thundered upstairs and then thundered back down clutching the trebuchet.

“I give you the Terrible Trebuchet of Death!” Mini-Stiles set it down on the table, loaded the marble, and pressed the trigger.It slung the marble across the living room and smacked Shawn’s leg.

“Ow!”

Mini-Stiles cackled.

Dad sighed and turned to Stiles who gave him the same sheepish grin he’d tried on Melissa.

“I learned how to make it for human anatomy.”

The expression Dad had was an interesting one.He turned back to Mini-Stiles and said, “Hey, Mischief, can I try that for a second?”

Stiles was no fool.He ran.


	2. The Official Stilinski Time Traveler Care Protocol Manual(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mini-Stiles was a master of collecting information and secrets. He was going to be a deputy someday and solve crimes with Dad so he had to practice. Sometimes Scott helped him but mostly Mini-Stiles did it on his own. 
> 
> He had files for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for cuteness overload. The damn brat decided to hijack the whole chapter.

Mini-Stiles was a master of collecting information and secrets.He was going to be a deputy someday and solve crimes with Dad so he had to practice.Sometimes Scott helped him but mostly Mini-Stiles did it on his own.

He had files for everything.

Okay, they weren’t so much files yet as they were notebooks.Organized notebooks.

Organized by his standards, anyway, which meant no one else was likely to understand his system which was fine because it was only for him. 

Most of his notebooks were for learning about people.Being a deputy and solving crimes meant understanding what motivated people.It meant understanding what made them tick.That’s how Dad did it.He knew how to look at someone and see if they were lying or telling the truth, and he knew how to work them for information. 

So that’s why he had sections in his notebooks on all the neighbors.It’s how he knew that the Johnstons’s across the street were about to file for divorce even though they looked happy and in love with each other when they stepped out their front door.It’s how he knew that Mr. Santuck down the street grew roses because they reminded him of his daughter who died overseas.

It’s how he knew that Dad always thought about Mom when he was listening to the morning news.Dad would twist his wedding ring and look off to the side of the TV because he and Mom always used to talk about what they saw on the news before he left for work.

Observation and deduction were a deputy’s most valuable assets. Mini-Stiles never intended to use or do anything with the information he gathered. It was just for practice and because he liked to know things. But, as summer had arrived Mini-Stiles realized he had missed a vital component of what it meant to be in law enforcement.

Helping people.

It was a bad oversight on his part, something that should have been obvious, but became clear after the the kidnapping.Mini-Stiles had only seen Dad’s job from the inside before.He saw the case files and snuck peeks at the crime boards and listened to the deputies talk shop when he could make himself be small and quiet so they forgot he was there. 

Then they were kidnapped and Older-Stiles saved him but almost died right after and then everything was really crazy for a while.And then everything got quiet.They went home.Sometimes that was almost scarier than the kidnapping itself because too much quiet meant Mini-Stiles’s head was way too loud.

A few days after they brought Older-Stiles back from the hospital both he and Dad were napping and Mini-Stiles was wide awake.Everyone was so tired because of the nightmares and the stress but Mini-Stiles's head was almost screaming.He had wanted to vibrate out of his skin.

That’s when he saw the patrol car outside the house.Not Dad’s cruiser, but Deputy Diaz’s.She and her partner, Deputy Klein, stayed out front until mid-afternoon and then Deputy Ellis and Deputy Fagan relieved them. 

Mini-Stiles had watched them from the window.He would have gone outside to see them but he didn’t want to leave Dad or his older self undefended. It helped, knowing that the deputies were outside and watching the house, even though he knew Mr. Lahey was dead.Mini-Stiles figured that this was probably just a courtesy because Dad was also a deputy, but it made him feel better.Safer.

And the lightbulb went off.

So he got to working on a new notebook for his file system.He observed.He deduced.He put together plans.He got together with Scott to brainstorm and to get another set of observations and deductions.Scott wasn’t as attuned to it but he came up with good ideas. 

Scott was a vital component for the next steps, too. Not only did he understand what Mini-Stiles wanted to accomplish but he understood both of them in a way only a best friend could.

“Now we put it into action, right?” Scott asked.

"Yep."

It was almost a month before school let out. The notebook was half filled and as ready for use as they could make it. 

The one thing that stuck out most from the kidnapping wasn’t Mr. Lahey.It was the fear.Mini-Stiles had been scared before.He’d lived with fear gnawing on his insides the entire time Mom was sick and in the hospital.And he’d had nightmares about losing Dad, too.But the kidnapping had been different.

Something Older-Stiles said had stayed with him ever since.When they were in the trunk, when Older-Stiles had gripped him tight and said, _Oh, I’m always scared._ At the time he thought Older-Stiles had meant about their situation.But afterward it kept coming back to him and Mini-Stiles knew he’d misunderstood.

Older-Stiles never seemed too scared to him before.He often spaced out.He got angry or irritable, even super cutting with his comments on occasion.But mostly he was just quiet.Before the kidnapping, Mini-Stiles had chalked it up to him being an asshole, mostly.

They were both assholes, to be fair.

It wasn’t until the hospital, when Older-Stiles came out of the bed like it was on fire and didn’t know where he was or who was with him that Mini-Stiles began to understand that he’d been missing an awful lot that had been right in front of his face.Once he did he couldn’t stop noticing it.Older-Stiles really was scared all the time.It just didn’t look like how Mini-Stiles expected it to.

Sometimes he would be watching TV and his hand would start shaking.Older-Stiles would hide it if he noticed, but sometimes he didn’t.There were the nightmares, too.Those had happened since December. Panic attacks, though Dad had the market cornered on helping him deal with those. The worst was the flinching.Older-Stiles wasn’t even aware he did it as much as he did.Sometimes Mini-Stiles couldn’t even figure out what caused it but it made him mad.

It made him so angry.

And he wanted to fix it.Because Older-Stiles was a pain in the ass sometimes and they were so alike that it could be grating rather than cool or nice, but he was theirs.He belonged to Dad and Mini-Stiles.

He was theirs to care for.

“Where do we start?” Scott asked.

Mini-Stiles looked down at what was in the notebook and chewed on his bottom lip.

“There’s three main things that Dad does that seems to help him when he gets scared,” Min-Stiles said.“First, Distraction Protocol.”

Mini-Stiles gestured to the bullet points.

“When Dad notices he’s off he doesn’t always ask him what’s wrong.He just talks and asks about _stuff_.It’s always specific so he has to think and answer back and it makes him stop thinking about what he thinking about.That should be pretty easy, I mean, he knows about a lot of things because he can go off on tangents like I do.”

Scott nodded, his face serious.“He probably knows what happens in all the comics we like, too.We could probably get him to talk about that.Oh, and magic!He likes talking about magic.”

“Good idea.” Mini-Stiles jotted those down with the other go-to topics that included things like games, movies, and random how does this work/how was this made questions.The odds were even that Older-Stiles either knew the answers or would drop what he was doing to figure it out via Wikipedia.“Okay, number two, Help Me Protocol.Dad does this a lot with chores but we can come up with funner things.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno.Maybe we could rope him into helping us make that treehouse we always wanted to build.”

“I thought your Dad said no way times a hundred on that.”

“That’s when I suggested we could figure out the power tools by ourselves.He’ll probably cave if we get Not-Tall-Enough to supervise.”

Scott seemed a bit dubious but didn’t say anything.

Mini-Stiles jotted down _more project ideas_. Help Me Protocol was pretty effective with Older-Stiles.Even Shawn knew to use it and, though Older-Stiles often complained, it was never a serious objection. Getting him to do something with his hands made him focus on the here and now.

“And number three: the Touchy-Feely Protocol.”

Scott stole the pen from him and marked that out.

“We’re not calling it that,” he said, and wrote something else down.When he was done he gave it back to Stiles.Number three became the Hugs A Lot Protocol.

“Okay, that works, too.”

Mini-Stiles was kinda squirmy about this one.It bordered on embarrassing and uncomfortable because he was a selectively huggy person.He hugged Scott all the time but that was Scott.If Scott were an animal he’d be a fluffy octopus.It was just in his DNA.Trying to fight that was like trying to escape a tractor beam.And Dad was a really huggy, kissy, hair ruffling guy, too.In fact, he became even more-so when he brought Older-Stiles home in December. 

Mini-Stiles didn’t mind it terribly but it was weird because other dads he saw weren’t like that.They were more of a pat on the back, put you in a headlock kind of reserved with their affection from what he’d observed around school.And most of the boys he knew didn’t hug each other much. It was all slaps and arm punches and shoving.Girls did all the time, though.Lydia and her friends were always hugging and leaning into each other.It was kind of unfair when he thought about it.

Sometimes there was teasing when Dad was overly affectionate in public with Mini-Stiles.But everyone remembered what happened during the fight with Jackson so it didn’t turn into anything more than comments.Even Jackson just sneered at him and kept his distance.

The thing was, though, this type of action did make a big difference for Older-Stiles.He never complained or tried to shrug it off.He seemed to really need it even if he didn't initiate much of it first.

And, though he’d never admit it out loud, maybe Mini-Stiles kinda needed it, too.But he didn’t need it as badly as Older-Stiles.Anything they did was strictly for him. 

“This one’s easy,” Scott said, just like Mini-Stiles knew he would.“Especially on movie nights.He likes it when we dog pile him.”

“He complains about that.”

“Yeah, but he never makes us move,” Scott pointed out. 

That was true.Mini-Stiles added that to the book.

“I think that’s enough to get us started for now,” Mini-Stiles said.“We’ll keep adding to it as we see what works and what doesn’t.”

“Do you think it’ll help him get better?”

Mini-Stiles flipped through the pages back to the front.

“I think it’s a good start.”

At the top of the first page he scrawled out the file’s name in careful lettering and then clicked the pen closed.There was still plenty of room left in the notebook and he had all summer to help Older-Stiles and start fixing him.

“That’s a really long tongue-twister,” Scott said.

“Yeah, but it sounds cool.”

“It does sound cool.”

Mini-Stiles closed the cover on _The Official Stilinski Time Traveler Care Protocol Manual_ and hid it under his bed.

~

There was one more protocol for the manual that Mini-Stiles didn’t write down in that notebook.He didn’t tell Scott about it, either.It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Scott but Mini-Stiles was sure he was the only one who could do it.That, and Scott might have some objections about it.Mini-Stiles’s stomach twisted a little when he thought about that, but Scott was a goody-two-shoes and had a lot of objections about a lot of things that could be fun or cool.

This wasn’t fun or cool.Well, sort of.But that wasn’t why Mini-Stiles was excited about it.The official protocols were all about helping Older-Stiles from the outside.

Mini-Stiles had discovered a way to also help from the inside.

He came across it by complete accident, wasn't even aware such a thing was possible.But, considering how many impossible things became not only real but tangible in the past half year he shouldn’t have been surprised.

But he was.For all of ten minutes and then he decided to roll with it.

It happened just a few days after he and Scott cemented the Official Protocols.Mini-Stiles had come out of a nightmare.He’d been in Lahey’s trunk and it was so tight and dark in there.And Older-Stiles was there, too, but he’d already drowned and he was staring up unseeing, not breathing, and Mini-Stiles didn’t know how to do CPR.

He was out of bed with his pillow before he even stopped shaking and his feet took him to Older-Stiles’s room.Older-Stiles had been half on his side, one arm stretched out across the mattress, the other clutching at the blankets.Mini-Stiles watched him breathe for a few minutes to make sure he still was and perched on the edge of the bed. 

Mini-Stiles picked up his hand like he had that day at the pond and found it warm instead of clammy and cold. Relief, sudden and sharp, punched a sigh out of his chest.

Then the room around him disappeared.

Mini-Stiles had the faint sensation of falling before scenery slammed into place around him. He was in a school hallway but it had to have been the high school because all the students were far older than him.It was crowded and Mini-Stiles got shunted to the side with the crowd until he hit the wall.

It sucked being so short.He could barely see around the press of bodies. They began to thin out as a muted bell rang faintly overhead.

No, they began to _disappear._

It began with small puffs.Just tiny pops of sound.Then a teenager next to him, a girl with blonde braids and a red skirt, went up in green smoke and was just gone.Mini-Stiles stared in shock at the place she had been, uncomprehending.

Then it happened faster and faster.More teenagers disappeared in green smoke until the the hallway was almost deserted.The only ones left were in the middle of the hallway, maybe five or six, including Older-Stiles. 

“Please.Please don’t,” Older-Stiles begged. 

He looked awful.He looked like the picture Dad had had hanging up when he was considered a missing kid.Too thin and ragged and bloody, his clothes torn up, his wrists raw and still bleeding.His face trembled like he was holding back tears and he was so…lost.

Mini-Stiles had only ever seen him like this in glimpses before his older self would pull himself together.It was what he’d witnessed at the hospital.

Mini-Stiles hated that look.It didn’t belong on Older-Stiles.He didn’t deserve to have to wear it after everything.

Older-Stiles was frozen to the floor while the other teenagers stood scattered before him, their faces disappointed and sad.Then, one by one, the other teenagers began to fade.Not in puffs of smoke, but as if they were getting scrubbed away.As they faded out headstones faded in bearing names and dates too blurry for Mini-Stiles to read even after he wiped his face.

One boy was the last one to fade out.Mini-Stiles realized with a sinking horror that it was Scott.Crooked jaw, heavy eyebrows and all.He was tall and strong and tired as he closed his eyes.

“No,” Older-Stiles pleaded, but Scott disappeared, too, and his headstone drove a spike of terror through Mini-Stiles's heart.

The school faded away as well and then they were in the middle of a cemetery with rows of headstones stretching in all directions, all the way to every horizon, and no sound but Older-Stiles’s choked sobs in the still, misty air.

The weight of all the graves pressed down on Mini-Stiles.He wanted to run away from it, to look away and never glance back, but Older-Stiles wasn’t moving.The weight bore down on him too, pressing on his shoulders as he hunched over on himself, sinking and sinking until he was on his knees, back bent, head bowed. Defeated.

Mini-Stiles couldn’t leave him there.

It took forever to reach him.Like he was walking through wet sand.But he kept pushing until he made it to Older-Stiles and grabbed his hand and tugged on it.

It took forever for Older-Stiles to look up, confused, eyes hazy with pain and grief.

“I don’t want to be here,” Mini-Stiles said. 

And then they weren’t.The graveyard became the park, the one Older-Stiles always took him and Scott to.It was sunny and warm and there were other kids playing on the teeter-totters and swings and spinning on the merry-go-round.Mini-Stiles and Older-Stiles were sitting on the bench, ice cream cones in their hands. 

Older-Stiles was no longer a bloody, bruised mess. He looked normal his ridiculous long hair messy and everywhere, dressed in his usual flannel and t-shirt layers, his eyes still tired but not like they had been in the cemetery.

“This is a good place,” Mini-Stiles said, unsure of how he'd made this happen but knowing it had been him, not his older self.“Bad things don't happens here.”

“Really?”

The park grew warmer and wrapped around them, like a blanket nice and toasty from the dryer.Nothing bad had ever happened in this park for Mini-Stiles.This was where he came to feel better. 

This was where he had first met Scott playing in the sandboxes with his Tonka Trucks.It was where he rescued Lydia Martin from a wasp and even though he got stung she didn’t and she had smiled at him.It was where Dad taught him to climb the monkey bars, hovering below to catch him if he needed it, and then plucked him off the end and tossed him into the air when he made it across on his own for the first time.

It was a good place.

Older-Stiles glanced around like he couldn’t bring himself to believe that.Mini-Stiles began to understand a little.He was looking for something bad everywhere because that was what he was used to.Everyone had went away and left him all alone and he was waiting for it to happen again.

“Really, really,” Mini-Stiles said with surety.

So he did the first thing he could think of to make this place different for Older-Stiles.He smashed his ice cream cone right into Older-Stiles's face and smeared it across his shocked expression.

“Tag, you’re it.”

Mini-Stiles leapt off the bench and ran towards the playground.For a moment it was quiet and then Older-Stiles shouted, stunned, “You brat!”

It was a dream so Mini-Stiles was able to run without getting winded and led Older-Stiles on a long chase all around the park.But it wasn’t his dream so Older-Stiles eventually caught him and smashed his ice cream cone all over Mini-Stiles’s head and down his shirt.And they both laughed and laughed until their ribs should have ached.But it never hurt.

Nothing hurt in this place.

~

When Mini-Stiles woke up it was to Older-Stiles sitting up in bed.Mini-Stiles kept his eyes closed and clutched at the blanket, unwilling to leave the cocoon of warmth.It was too early to actually be up, anyway, he could tell.Older-Stiles stopped moving and Mini-Stiles knew he was looking down at him. 

Then there was a soft pressure on top of Mini-Stiles’s head.Older-Stiles’s hand rested there and he ran his thumb up and down Mini-Stiles’s forehead to the bridge of his nose.It was something Dad did when he thought either of them were deep asleep. 

Older-Stiles left and Mini-Stiles rolled over until he was a mummy in the covers and fell back asleep.

The next time he woke up it was daylight.He wandered down to the kitchen and Older-Stiles was there with Dad making breakfast. 

“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Dad said and knuckled his head as he fumbled his way to a seat at the table.

“Nurpmgh,” Mini-Stiles muttered and swatted at Dad’s hand.

They both laughed at him until Older-Stiles served up some egg sandwiches.By the time he finished his orange juice, Mini-Stiles was awake and feeling a little more chipper.

Older-Stiles seemed to be, too.He joked with Dad more than he usually did at that time of the morning.His eyes were a little brighter, too.He kept glancing over at Mini-Stiles when he thought he didn’t notice.

Mini-Stiles ignored him as if it were any other morning.By this point neither of them asked about nightmares if Mini-Stiles ended up in Older-Stiles’s room, especially if Older-Stiles didn’t wake up when he arrived.Older-Stiles always kept an eye on him the next day, though.

So Mini-Stiles acted normal.He ignored it.It wasn’t hard to be a little disgruntled because no matter what Dad said, nine o’clock on a Saturday was _too damn early_.And he was still tired.He may have been asleep but he didn’t feel as rested.

After they ate and washed dishes Older-Stiles nudged him and said, “Hey.Do you want to go to the park today?”

Mini-Stiles perked up.“Can Scott come?”

Older-Stiles rolled his eyes.“Duh, dude.He’s always invited.”

“If Melissa says okay,” Dad reminded them.“And only after you both get your chores done.We’ll all go.”

Ugh, Dad, way to be a buzzkill.Mini-Stiles didn’t say that out loud, though, he wasn’t stupid.

He raced through his chores and Older-Stiles got the okay from Melissa and _finally_ they were able to leave.

There was no ice cream cone fight but that was fine.Mini-Stiles didn’t want his older self to get suspicious, so he exchanged a look with Scott and mouthed _Protocol Three_ and then said, “Hey, let’s play hide and seek.Not-Tall-Enough, you’re it.”

“Why do I always have to be it first?” he groused without heat.

“Because I said so.And no magic!”

Older-Stiles rolled his eyes.Dad smirked and settled onto the park bench with a newspaper he would only pretend to read while he kept watch over them.

“Brat.”

Older-Stiles faced a tree, covered his eyes, and started counting.Mini-Stiles and Scott raced off to a hidden alcove underneath the jungle gym and crouched down to wait.Older-Stiles finished counting and began to circle around the playground, poking around the play equipment, trees, and trash cans while slowly making his way to the middle.

The liar knew exactly where they were and was making a show of looking but that was fine.

When he finally got close Mini-Stiles nodded at Scott and they both burst out of their hiding place with war cries and tackled Older-Stiles to the ground.They each pinned one of his arms, careful of his ribs and stomach since they knew he still hurt some, and Mini-Stiles crowed, “Victory!”

“This is not how hide and seek goes,” Older-Stiles wheezed.

“We changed the rules, try to keep up.”Mini-Stiles honked his older self’s nose.

“Oh, you are so dead.”

Older-Stiles rose up and grabbed Mini-Stiles in a headlock and gave him a noogie and a wet willy so Mini-Stiles shrieked and flailed.Scott hung onto Older-Stiles’s back and clung like a monkey.

They spent a couple hours there before Dad insisted it was time to head home. They were all covered in grass and dirt and sweat and smiles. 

Older-Stiles hadn't flinched once.

~

That night, when Mini-Stiles went to bed he pulled the covers up over his head and turned his flashlight on.He dug a small notebook out of his hiding place, a brand new one, and wrote at the top, _Top Secret Stilinski Time Traveler Care Protocol Manual._ He ran out of room and the last two words had to go underneath.

The first bullet point was _Fix Stiles Protocol_.Below that he wrote out everything he could remember that happened and ideas for what to do the next time.When he was done he hid the notebook again and clicked the flashlight off.

With Scott, he was going to use the Official Protocols to help Older-Stiles during the day.With the Secret Protocols he was going to help Older-Stiles at night.Between the two, Mini-Stiles was confident that he could help Older-Stiles get better, feel safer.

It was Mini-Stiles’s turn to protect him.


	3. Burden of Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia always did know how to hit Stiles out of the blue, like a stray bullet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for a panic attack and flashback.

“This is a horrible idea,” Dad said when Shawn was dealing out cards, determined to win at least some kind of game. “If they get good at this they’ll end up in Vegas and then prison.”

Mini-Stiles scoffed as he tried to figure out how to see what cards everyone else had without being obvious about it. “As if we’d get caught.”

“We’re way too good for that,” Scott assured Dad with a bright and earnest smile.

Dad’s flat expression made it all funnier.

“Shawn, you’re responsible if they turn into card sharps and go on a gambling spree.”

Shawn gave Dad an incredulous side-eye and kept dealing.

“I think the fact you expect that to be their eventual destination says a lot about your parenting, don’t you think?”

Dad leveled an impressive stare over his hand of cards.

“Poker was your idea.You were supposed to be a good influence.” Dad shook his head. “I may have to go make some changes to your annual performance review now.”

Melissa made a _tsking_ sound as she studied her cards and directed Scott to stop flashing his around as he grabbed more chips.“I’d get right on that, mister deputy.Because if those two get arrested then Scott will, too, just because he’s always with them, and if I have to visit my baby in prison I’m coming after you.”

Shawn had sputtered and looked around the table as if trying to find an ally and came up wanting.

“You guys are horrible, take responsibility for your own spawn.”

“Don’t worry, Barney, I’ll teach them everything I know about running from cops,” Stiles had said, unable to help himself.“I’ve had a good success rate.”

That got him an _excuse me_ expression from Melissa, a _you better not if you know what’s good for you_ look from Dad, and a narrow-eyed, calculating expression from Shawn before he turned to Laura and opened his mouth.

“No way,” Laura had said with a dismissive wave.“He’s my chaotic soulmate, if you think I wouldn’t be right there, too, you’re delusional.” 

Laura and Stiles fist bumped in solidarity.

“Derek, you’ve always been the smart one—“

“Yep,” Derek agreed, not looking up as he had shuffled his hand of cards around with a look of concentration.“That’s why I plan to be rich already, we’ll obviously need the bail money.”

“Aww, you’d bail us out?That’s so sweet, man,” Stiles said.

Derek grinned down at his cards.

Shawn gave up on everyone else as hopeless and turned to Scott.

“Buddy, you need some new friends.”

Scott shrugged.“I like my friends.Prison would be a bonding experience.So is gambling in Vegas, right Stiles?We could be like Ocean’s Eleven.”

“Exactly, dude.”Stiles flashed a proud thumbs up and Scott preened.

Melissa sighed as if she regretted every life choice that involved a Stilinski.

“See, Shawn, the kids wouldn’t end up in prison for robbing a casino if you’d picked a better game.Like Go Fish,” Dad said.

Everyone at the table laughed while Shawn looked up and beseeched some higher entity that clearly wasn’t listening.Poor guy.

It wasn’t a half bad game. Stiles could see how it could get even more dangerous than Uno once he and Mini-Stiles had some more practice with it. Dad was probably right to be worried. When Stiles was only a bit older than his younger self he had figured out how to make extra money by writing fudged book reports for older kids. Stiles had gotten spanked and grounded when Dad had found out.

Poker would have been so much easier to get away with, and to make bank from.And now they had Laura, who seemed to have a good grasp on the rules, and Derek, who had an incredible poker face.Not to mention the werewolf hearing and other advanced senses.

Oh, that gave Stiles all kinds of terrible and non-Dad approved ideas.

From there the night devolved into bad attempts at cheating, trading cards under the table, and not so subtle sabotage from Derek and Laura, respectively. By the time Dad declared poker officially over it was late.Somehow after that they decided to lay out in the backyard for a while stargazing, of all things. 

Spread out on a comforter while the adults stayed inside, the teenagers and kids flopped down until they were comfortable and Derek took charge.

This Derek knew all about the constellations and began telling stories about them. It took Stiles quite a while to realize he was bullshitting about every other constellation, his stories were so convincing. Stiles was pretty sure there was no giant jellyfish that killed some Greek god hanging out by the Milky Way.

Like, seventy-percent sure. The stars weren’t Stiles’s strong suit, he’d always been more concerned with the moon.

“Why would the gods stick a jellyfish in the sky? What was so special about a jellyfish even if it did kill a god?” Mini-Stiles asked, clearly thinking along the same lines.

“Why stick a crab or a lion or a mushroom up there? The Greeks were weird as hell. You should read about some of the other stuff they used to get up to. This isn’t the strangest by far,” Derek assured him.

“I’m still not seeing it,” Stiles said. The stars were pinpricks of light in varying degrees of proximity and brightness to each other. It was one thing to see Orion or the dippers but every other supposed constellation shape did not make sense.

“You’re looking in the wrong place.” Derek had scooted over until his head was right next to Stiles’s and lifted his hand to trace out a pattern. “See, this is the top and umbrella-looking part, and down here you have the stinging tendril things.”

Stiles had looked over and raised an eyebrow to let Derek know he was onto him. Derek’s response had been a flash of teeth in a wide grin.

Sometime after that Stiles had fallen asleep stretched out beside Derek with Laura’s legs draped over his.Scott and Mini-Stiles had sprawled out around Laura, who had kept up a low murmur of talk Stiles didn’t grasp as his eyes fluttered closed.

The sign of a great party was when people woke up in places they didn’t remember falling asleep, or so Stiles has always heard.Stiles could have done without ever experiencing it, though, because when he woke up next it was to disorientation and mild panic.The living room slowly came into focus but for a moment it was a nightmarish, alien place of shadows caught between the corners of comfort and the memories of somewhere dark, dank, and enclosed.

Stiles froze as a spike of panic cut through the deep of him.There was something on the tip of his tongue, a word or phrase, or some part of a conversation, but then it slipped away.

He didn’t remember coming back into the house and sacking out on a pallet around the couch.The pallet wasn’t there before they went to the backyard.Dimly, Stiles hoped nobody actually carried him inside, that would have been embarrassing.He lifted his head and stared until he he was certain he knew where he was, that it was real.Laura’s arm tightened over his chest.

“Stop the beagles,” she muttered.

The others were in there, too.Mini-Stiles was between him and Derek and he could hear Scott behind Laura, his breathing a dry rattle.Stiles relaxed and Laura pulled him close like he was some kind of a teddy bear. 

He was fine.He was home, with his pack.

Something wouldn’t let him go back to sleep, though.He gave it another half hour but sleep was going to be impossible.By then a faint light beyond the windows told him it was early morning.Stiles extricated himself from the pile despite Laura’s low irritated whine.He tossed the blanket back over her.A minute later she reached out and found Mini-Stiles and folded him into her grasp.He went with it, pliant and dead to the world.

Stiles wasn’t the only one awake.Dad’s office door was slightly ajar, faint yellow light spilled out around the edges.Stiles peeked in.Dad was at his desk but his case files were closed.He was leaned back in his chair, feet up on a filing cabinet, reading through a book.The cover had a long and convoluted titlebut he caught the words _childhood_ and _PTSD trauma_ among it.

“Morning, kid,” Dad said without looking up. 

Stiles took that as permission to enter.“What are you doing?” he asked through a yawn.

“Can’t sleep.It never fails to surprise me just how much flying throws off my internal clock even if I don’t leave this time zone.”Dad closed the book and tossed it back up on his desk.“What about you?You kids partied hard enough I figured you’d all sleep until noon.”

Stiles snorted.“Mini-Me probably will.I just woke up.”

“Nightmare?”

Stiles frowned and tried to think back to it.“I don’t think so?”

Dad raised an eyebrow.“You couldn’t tell?”

Stiles shrugged.“It was weird.It started off as one.Then it just stopped.Like, right in the middle and then I was at the park with Mini-Me.That’s been happening a lot lately.”Stiles rubbed at his chest.It felt tight now. 

“What happened at the park?”

“We chased each other around.Sort of like a memory but not, I guess.”

Dad gave him an appraising look.

“Do you think you’re learning to break yourself out of your nightmares?”

“That would be nice,” Stiles said, but he didn’t think so.There was something weird about the park dreams but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What’s bugging you, then?”

“I didn’t wake up after that part ended, the dream took me somewhere else.I don’t remember it clearly, though.I feel like it left me with an itch under my skin I can’t get to.”

Stiles had a complicated relationship with his dreams.He’d always dreamed vividly so good dreams were usually wild in more than one sense and bad dreams were technicolor and surround sound awful.When the nogitsune came along he couldn’t tell dreams from reality and it greatly soured his dreaming experience. 

He had few good, wild dreams and more memory and nightmare mashups anymore.

The dream sequence at the park was neither.It was nice, definitely, but muted in a lot of ways, too.Almost like it was trying too hard to be a dream.And what had came after felt...weird.Like he was forgetting something important.

“I don’t know, maybe my brain is just over tired.Not like I’ve been stressed out or anything lately,” Stiles said with a sarcastic huff.

“Hmm.”Dad looked at the clock and then back at Stiles.“Think anyone will notice if we sneak out for donuts?”

Stiles looked over his shoulder at the lumps snoring under the blankets.“I think we could manage it.”

They were still in sweats and t-shirts and just threw on a pair of shoes before they left the house.The clock in the cruiser said it was shy of six o’clock.Being a Sunday, most of Beacon Hills was still asleep but there was a small line at the donut shop of diehard early birds, people getting off of night shift, and people headed into work.Dad parked in the lot but didn’t turn the cruiser off.

“Hey, I’ve noticed Mischief has been going to your room a lot lately to sleep.Has he talked about what’s bothering him?”

Stiles lifted one shoulder in a shrug and wiggled his hand back and forth.“Sometimes.He said he mainly dreams about the trunk, but I think he dreams about the pond, too.He, uh, checks to see if I’m still breathing a lot.”

Dad grimaced and reached over to squeeze his shoulder.Dad checked that, too, anytime he was up in the middle of the night.Even during the day both of them would check him.Derek and Laura listened for his heartbeat, he knew, and when that wasn’t enough they were up in his space, a hand on his neck or an arm over his shoulders.

Mini-Stiles had become extremely clingy since the incident.Not in a weepy, overtly affectionate kind of way but more like a shadow always a few steps behind, constantly watching.Mini-Stiles still argued with him, still teased and poked at him sometimes past the line of playful, but there was a new edge about him that Stiles recognized from himself.An angry fear.

“I’m a little worried about him.I’ve been getting calls from his teachers and he’s had some behavioral issues since the incident.Has he mentioned what’s gone on at school?”

Stiles shook his head.“Other than complaining about homework, no.What happened?”

Dad sighed.“He’s gotten into some shouting matches with a few of the other kids.Nothing has come to actual blows but it’s been close a couple times.Makes me wonder if some of that trash talk you mentioned is the cause.Have you had to deal with much at school?”

Stiles hesitated which Dad picked up on within the second.It was Stiles’s turn to sigh.

“People are gossipy and dumb, Dad.I’m fine, though.”

“What have they been saying?Because if it’s gotten to you then the same things have gotten to Mischief.A lot of the kids in his grade have older siblings in high school.”

Well, fuck.Stiles looked away.He hadn’t even thought about that.

“Stiles,” Dad prompted.

“I don’t know.A lot of them can’t decide if they believe he was at fault, especially the kids that had him as a coach and even some of the teachers.Most of them didn’t say anything directly to me, they just talked behind my back.”

And gave him looks and avoided him like he was a plague-ridden rat.

“And the ones who did say something?”

Stiles winced.“I ignored most of them.”

Dad did that thing where he waited expectantly for Stiles to elaborate, never saying a word but managing to be so incredibly loud about it.

Stiles gave him a brief rundown of the confrontation on Friday. 

“Did you get hurt in the fight?”

Stiles shook his head.“They never landed a hit.I didn’t hurt them bad, either, just put them in the dirt.”

“You still managed to completely sidestep what they said to you.”

“It’s not important.”

“Your avoidance tells me it is.”

“Maybe I forgot what they said.”

“Maybe you should remember I know when you’re lying to me.”When Stiles stayed quiet Dad turned off the cruiser and locked the doors.“Fine.Looks like we’re going to sit here for a while.”

Damn it.Why did these kinds of conversations usually happen before he got to have coffee?

“Promise you won’t hit the roof, okay?”

“I’m not going to be mad at you for what they said, kiddo.”

“I know, but I also don’t want you to go shoot anyone.I kind of like you not in jail.You’re the one whose supposed to bail us out.”

Dad narrowed his eyes.“Just tell me.”

Stiles did with great reluctance.

Dad took a deep breath and unleashed a string of highly inventive curses Stiles filed away for future reference.

“Remember, no shooting.”

Dad gave him a stink eye.“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was I gonna tell you?That people were being mean?That’s been happening since kindergarten.”

“This is a little more than people being mean, Stiles.That whole sticks and stones thing is bullshit.I don’t want you carrying their words by yourself.”

Part of Stiles wanted to scoff at that.He’d dealt with plenty of words from people who didn’t like him and wouldn’t tolerate him before.He’d dealt with outright pariah status on more than one occasion, too. 

The other part of Stiles was tired.Going back to school after dying, again, hadn’t been a picnic and he was tired of things being so exhausting.Especially the rumors.

“It’s not like I took them to heart, Dad.I know what really happened.”

“That doesn’t exactly make things easier.”

Stiles said nothing because, yes, Dad was right about that but Stiles didn’t want to have to admit it.

“We both need to sit down with Mischief and see what he’s heard.Maybe ease him into knowing some more of the truth if you’re ready to share it.”

Stiles nodded.Pretty much only Dad knew most of the events that led to Stiles being in this world.And Shawn, of course, though Stiles didn’t know exactly how much.Well, and also Dr. Sharon, his therapist.Mini-Stiles knew bits and pieces, though not for lack of trying to find out.Dad didn’t want him to know everything and Stiles agreed.

Mini-Stiles was still a kid and Dad wasn’t about to let him lose so much innocence all at once.Stiles agreed with that, much to his younger self’s consternation.

But he probably needed to be brought into some things, if only to make sure he had the real story instead of his own overactive imagination and theories.

“Can we go get sugar and caffeine now?Please?I need sustenance if we’re going to be deep and serious before seven o’clock in the morning.”

“Sure, if you promise not to keep this stuff to yourself anymore.”

Stiles gave him a petulant look.“Dad, I’m not gonna come tattle to you every time I hear a stupid rumor.”

“Curb the attitude,” Dad said.“It’s not tattling, it’s called keeping me informed.And when we get home you’re going to give me the names of those jackasses.”

“I hit first, you can’t exactly arrest them.” 

“No, but I can keep an eye on them. And don’t even think about trying to sneak off before you tell me, I will have Laura drag you back.”

Stiles grumbled but he knew Laura would do it.

They finally got donuts and coffee.After the caffeine hit his bloodstream Stiles felt like a dick for brushing Dad off and apologized as they pulled up in the driveway.

Dad ruffled his hair.“I know how to handle grumpy teenagers. Good thing, or most of them in this county would be in lockup.”

Stiles nearly snorted coffee out of his nose.

He ended up giving dad the names he knew and then retreated upstairs to take a shower before everyone else woke up.By the time he came down everyone else had risen with the smell of sugar and were going through the donuts like the ravenous wolves only two of them were.

“Stilinski, today you are going shopping with me and Derek,” Laura declared as she plucked blueberry cake donut from the box.

“What for?” Stiles asked, suspicious. 

“Reasons.”

Stiles bit into a new donut and, though a mouthful, said, “Shenanigan reasons, boring reasons, what are we talking about here?”Crumbs went all down his front and Derek raised a judgmental eyebrow.Stiles made a face back at him.

“When are my reasons ever boring?”

“Point.” 

“There will be no shenanigans today,” Dad said.“We’re all going, anyway.”

“Really?” Mini-Stiles asked.

“Mhmm,” Dad hummed.“Do you remember what I promised we’d do after I got back?”

Mini-Stiles’s eyes widened.

“Arcade day!”

Dad ginned and Mini-Stiles let out a whoop.Stiles smiled.Dad and Mini-Stiles had a whole bonding experience about the arcade, Stiles had learned.It was their special thing.Stiles really couldn’t fathom it.Even before his Mom had died that wasn’t a thing he and his Dad had ever done.Their thing had been fishing.It had stopped being a thing after Mom.After Mom there had been occasional movie nights and baseball games on the TV.Those were far easier to schedule and catch than fish.

Stiles bit down on a flare of jealousy.It was good they had something like that and he’d never want to take it away, he was glad they had it.It was just, well, another example of how different things were here and how much better they could have been in his world if only…Well, if only, if only.Stiles pushed that thought aside.Thinking like that could make him spiral for days if he let it.

At least Laura and Derek would be there today.He could go off with them and not be a third wheel.

They slowly got around and piled into two separate cars.Stiles rode with Laura and Derek and they followed Dad downtown.

Stiles hadn’t been there at all since he’d arrived in Beacon Hills last fall.There had been no reason to.The downtown of his Beacon Hills had been mostly business offices and upscale restaurants Stiles never would have been able to afford.The downtown of this Beacon Hills still had that but there were also retail outlets and an entire new mall sitting where the Chase building had been, along with a good portion of the block.

“Do I get to know what reasons bring us here today?” Stiles asked after they parked.

They piled out of the car and Laura tugged on his arm.

“The reasons will become clear soon,” she said, pitching her voice towards a spooky and mysterious tone.

Stiles narrowed his eyes.“You just wanted someone to carry the things you bought, didn’t you?”

“So suspicious!Sort of.But that’s not the only reason.Come on.”

Laura broke into a swift walk and led them up to the large double doors.

“We meet at the food court in two hours,” Dad called behind them.

Stiles turned and gave him a salute while walking backwards.He tripped over the curb and almost brained himself on the concrete.Derek caught him by the back of his jacket and hauled him up and around before he could.

“Idiot,” he said.

Dad echoed the sentiment with a sigh behind them.

The mall opened up around them and became an atrium of stores and small crowds of early shoppers wandering around the giant space.

Laura beamed and thus began an hour long amble from one store to another.Laura picked out a wide array of items seemingly on a whim.A child’s basketball jersey.A pair of pink Chucks.Three James Patterson books.A wooden elephant.

“Who are these even for?” Stiles asked.None of these things seemed like things for Laura.Or even a single person. 

“She gets in moods,” Derek said as they stood outside a jewelry outlet with all the bags around their feet.Stiles felt distinctly like one of those men at Target waiting for their wives to get done shopping so they could go home.“She hasn’t really been sleeping much.Anytime she feels like shit she goes on a spending spree.”

“For who?”

Stiles glanced back at the store.Laura was chatting with the clerk, all smiles and easy banter.She’d been calm and content enough, Stiles had thought, especially last night. 

“The kids, mostly.They love getting presents.”

Stiles frowned.“And she hasn’t said why she’s feeling like that?”

Derek shook his head, his mouth a thin frustrated line.“She’s not even talking to our Mom right now.She’s taking a break from alpha training and everything.”

“Shit.”That was definitely a big deal and not something Laura had even mentioned in passing.Stiles glanced at Derek.“What about you?You holding up okay?”

“I should be asking you that.”

Stiles snorted.“I’m always off the rails one way or another.Still going, though.”

Derek bumped his shoulder.

“Seriously, though.You okay?”

Derek shrugged.Then shook his head.

Stiles leaned back into his shoulder.“Yeah.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to this Derek.His Derek had always been gruff and matter of fact and massively emotionally repressed.Not to say he didn’t care, because he had, but his way of showing it had been reluctant scent marking, general stalking, and remarks about Stiles’s stupidity.

Stiles had returned the favor when Derek had been the one in the line of fire. Somehow, he didn’t think this Derek would respond well to that particular brand of antagonistic caring.Laura definitely wouldn’t.

“Have you two talked to anyone at all?A therapist or something.”

Derek snorted.Stiles took that for a no.

Laura came out of the shop with a few small bags and then they were off to the next store.Her phone started ringing before they got there.She took a glance at the screen and sighed.Then, with a cheery voice, answered, “Hey, Mom.”

She listened for a few minutes and her face fell.Derek’s did, too.

“Sure, we’ll head out now.See you then.”

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked after she hung up.

“Mom’s calling a pack meeting and we need to be there.Looks like this trip is cut short.”Laura sighed.“I was hoping to get some ice cream next.”

“That’s okay, we have all summer to hang out, you know.”

“Oh, I know, but I was going to show you what we were going to do with all the stuff I’m buying.We make a game out of hiding this stuff for the kids back home.Like Easter, but better.”

Stiles smiled.“Let me guess, you take extreme liberties with where you hide everything.”

“Duh.The really good presents are the hardest to get.I make sure I put them in places they have to be sneaky and smart to get to.It builds character.”

“And provides entertainment.”

“Of course, two birds, one stone.”

“You gonna be okay if we go?” Derek asked.He looked around like they were back in school, all bristled up and waiting for someone to be an asshole.

Stiles found a clock.“Yeah.Dad wanted to meet in about twenty minutes anyway.I’ll just bum around until then.”

They both hesitated but then Laura straightened up and flashed him a smile.

“We’ll text you when the meeting’s over, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Laura squeezed his neck and Derek gripped his shoulder and then they were gone, divvying up the bags and disappearing into the thickening crowd.Stiles wandered a little aimlessly, letting the crowd shunt him from one side of the strip to another.

Unlike at school, no one paid him any mind here.Everyone was too busy getting on with their own shopping, having fun, or kicking up their heels in protest to care about anyone else around them.Stiles found it relaxing.Even though he was out and about in daylight, the fact that people’s eyes slid right off him without the aid of magic made something in his chest settle down.

He ended up near the food court and took a seat on a bench to wait out the remaining time.He could have gone straight to the arcade but he didn’t want to spoil any of Mini-Stiles’s time with Dad.This was the first time in a long while his younger self had had the opportunity to spend time alone with Dad.

Stiles stuffed his hands in his pockets and crossed his legs at the ankle.People walked the floor in front of him in groups.Kids laughed and ran, dodging between people.A pack of older ladies chided them and moved toward the Hallmark store, asking loudly about someone’s grandkid and how they were doing.

Then his ears caught a familiar voice.Stiles sat up and scanned the crowd, aware his heart had started to beat faster.He craned his neck and saw a flash of red, heard the click of heels even over the sounds of everyone else, or maybe it was just his imagination.

Lydia Martin and her mother, Natalie, approached from the food court and made their way to the high end pre-teen boutique right in front of Stiles.She was just as Stiles remembered when he was nine years old.Her strawberry blond hair was done up in a fancy French braid arrangement.She dressed like she’d just come from church in a white and black blouse and skirt arrangement and heels just like her mother.

Stiles’s lungs shrank to the size of walnuts.It was like watching a ghost, or the echo of a ghost.Stiles saw glimpses of his Lydia in the way she walked and flipped her hair, how she smiled and shot off something sweet and sarcastic that made her mother laugh. 

Her eyes were bright and innocent but his mind provided a hazy flash of how they looked when he last saw them, wide and too-knowing and bruised with a darkness that never quite faded.When she twirled away Stiles saw her older self glance back and smile through a split lip.

Lydia always did know how to hit Stiles out of the blue, like a stray bullet.

Stiles stood abruptly and walked away.He saw a sign for the bathrooms up ahead and ducked inside.He made it to a stall and locked himself inside just as a high whining noise filled his ears.

Then he wasn’t in the brightly lit mall bathroom anymore.He was in the woods in the early morning when heavy dew and fog dripped and swirled across every surface.His skin was dirty and unwashed, a sour smell clung to the inside of his nose.Lydia, his Lydia, was beside him and in much the same state, her once beautiful hair greasy from lack of showers and pulled back into a practical and plain bun.

There was a rushing anxiety under Stiles’s skin, intense and jittery and as Lydia leaned against him she said, _Do you think we’ll ever get to stop running now?_

The ash of Beacon Hills was still ground into the lines of their skin, the smell of it clung to their clothing and left smears on everything they touched.The world had gone from crazy to shattered in so short a time that it half seemed a waking dream.

Lydia’s voice had been raspy and strained.Overused and pushed to the limit.Her eyes were wide and hollow in her face, cheeks streaked with soot and a healing cut on her chin and her lip split above it.She was exhausted and scared, hanging onto him with her nails dug in, and she’d been the most real thing he’d ever stood beside.

_When can we stop running?_

Stiles came back to himself in the bathroom stall, hand pressed to his chest, heart hammering away at his ribs, and gasping for breath.Stiles closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.It took a while but when he finished he went to splash water on his face and gripped the edges of the sink.

Get it together, he thought to himself.With a few more deep breaths he dried his hands and face and made his way to the food court.Dad and Mini-Stiles were there, scanning the crowd and Dad had a distinct worried frown going on until he spotted Stiles.

“You’re late, everything okay?”

Stiles glanced around.He was seven minutes past time.

“Yeah.Laura and Derek had to take off, Talia called a pack meeting.I was in line for the bathroom.”Dad’s eyes were narrow and assessing, so Stiles barreled on.“You guys have fun?”

“I beat him at all the games!” Mini-Stiles gushed.“It was really close for the alien invasion one, he’s getting better at that.”

Mini-Stiles took over the conversation and rambled on about the games and their scores and how Dad was slowly getting the hang of some of the updated controllers in there.

“I even beat him in the car racing game!And he knows how to drive.”

Dad rolled his eyes.“It’s a bit different in real life, kiddo.Usually I’m trying _not_ to hit other cars.”

“I kept running him off the road,” Mini-Stiles said with pride.

“Laugh it up, kid, I may never let you drive at this rate.”

They decided on Chinese from the food court.Stiles did his best to push everything else down and engaged with Dad and Mini-Stiles as they ate.His eyes kept straying to the crowd, not wanting to see little Lydia and her mother again but unable to stop looking.Even so, here and there he would almost swear his Lydia was in the crowd, passing between people like a wraith among the unaware living.

Lydia would have slapped him for being so melodramatic and would have probably said something to the effect of, _No one ignores me when I walk into a goddamn room, Stiles, I make sure of it._

By the time they left Stiles was quiet again and twitchy.Dad kept glancing at him and when they got home he nudged Stiles.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied.He didn’t know why he was lying.He should have just said no but that would have meant talking and giving an explanation, if not now then later.Stiles didn’t want to talk at all, not about this.“I’m beat, I’m gonna go lay down.”

He left before either of them could make a comment, feeling as if he were running away.When he got to his room and closed the door he let himself sag against the desk and slump down into his chair.

“Fuck, I miss you.”

He hadn’t allowed himself to think about Lydia much since he’d arrived here.It was different with Scott.Scott was everywhere between his memory and the nine year-old version who came to the house almost every day.He was a constant ache in Stiles.His Dad, too.There was no avoiding them, and learning to live with these versions of them was both wonderful and hard depending on the day.Mostly he tried not to compare them. 

Derek was a different kind of case.Stiles hadn’t known him as long as the others, and he missed his Derek terribly sometimes, but he was also glad this version wasn’t the same.Even with this new trauma he was carrying it wasn’t anything like what he’d been burdened with in Stiles’s world.That could only be a good thing.

But Lydia…He’d seen her at a distance twice before, just far enough to recognize her but not close enough to gather details.He’d warded the Martin house when it was empty and had only gone back to check on it when she was at school or asleep.He hadn’t let himself dwell on her, either version, and had only spoken of her a few times to Dad and Mini-Stiles.If Scott was a constant ache then Lydia was an open wound, deep and sharp, not to be poked at.

Stiles’s gaze fell on the notebook peeking out from under the junk he’d cleaned out of his locker.He pulled it out and flipped it around.A pen was hooked on the inside of the cover.He’d kept it there ever since he bought it, just in case he ever got up the courage or found the words to write.He rolled the pen between his fingers, clicking the end in and out.Before he could outthink himself, Stiles wrote down the date and the scribbled a few sentences.

_Lydia,_

_The answer was no.I hated being right._

_I wish we could have._

_-S._

Stiles dropped the pen and sat back from the notebook.The words stood out harsh in blue ink on the white page.As his heart twisted, Stiles imagined the words bleeding into each other and coming off the page. 

They never got to finish that conversation in the woods.The others had come back and interrupted them, and they’d started running again, hiding as they slipped through the trees, as they found a highway and followed it to a town where they stole a car and some supplies to keep them going to the next one.

And the next and the next until Stiles made the wrong choice and got everyone killed.

The words continued to choke his throat.He had a million things he wanted to say to Lydia. _I love you’s_ and _I’m sorry’s_ chief among them, but also the little things he missed about her.The random things that were different between this world and theirs, how he would love to hear her theories as to why and how everything intersected and the math behind the probability and physics of it all.

She would have had a hay day with proof of a multiverse.

Stiles wanted so badly to lean into her, to have her lean into him, and take comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t have had to say anything at all.

And he wanted to hold her, to wrap his arms around her and feel her breathe against him.To know that he wasn’t alone in carrying the weight of their experiences, their world, their grief.To know that she was okay, for a given value of that word, and not rotting in some abandoned cave another universe away.

The hole inside him began to expand and Stiles closed the notebook to crawl into bed. He pulled the covers up over his head, cradled a pillow to his pounding chest, and let the misery swallow him for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, IDEK with this chapter. It was like pulling teeth trying to get it written and I can't even tell if it came out okay or not. But I'm tired of looking at it and ready to get to the next part, so hopefully it's not too much of a disaster. If it is, oh well. At least it's done.


	4. War Under the Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have to trust my feelings, Stiles, Lydia’s voice whispered in his ear. It’s not an exact science.
> 
> “No matter what I trust I’ll probably start another war,” Stiles muttered in answer. His head and his heart were, for once, in total agreement on this situation. 
> 
> It was bad and he had to do something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for heightened anxiety and panic, mentions of accidental child abuse.

Dad was worried about him. 

Stiles spent the next day trying to be normal but every time he turned around he was catching the tail end of looks.Concern, worry, evaluation.He tried not to let it get to him, but after another night of restless dreams, broken by the park, and then dropped down in something that woke him feeling sick inside, he wanted nothing more than to be invisible.

Lydia was still there.It was as if the incident in the mall cracked something open in Stiles, something he’d tried to wall off and shut away.No matter what he did, no matter what coping mechanisms he employed, it wouldn’t stay buried.

It wouldn’t even stay quiet.

Stiles was washing the dishes and Mini-Stiles was helping Dad in the living room.He could her them talking, Mini-Stiles carried most of the conversation while Dad interjected a few words here or there.The tone was one of contentment.Amusement.

_When is the last time you’ve ever needed instructions, am I right?_

Stiles dropped the cup he was rinsing.It hit the bottom of the sink hard but didn’t break.Her voice was so clear it was as if she were standing right beside him again.

_You’re the one who always figures it out._

Stiles shuddered and gripped the sink.The memory pulled at him, that day in the woods with Lydia and the bear trap.When he was losing his mind unable to read while Scott ran through the woods trying to save Malia.

The sound of the trap clanging shut triggered another memory, far more recent, and Stiles squeezed his eyes shut against it.The scream echoed in his head.No, no he was not going _there_ today, either.

_You always figure it out, Stiles._

_Figure it out._

A hand fell on his shoulder and Stiles jerked away.

Dad held his hands up, placating.“Hey.Hey, it’s okay.”

Stiles gave himself a mental shake.Something moved around Dad but Stiles shut his eyes to it.He couldn’t see her, not now.

“Sorry,” Stiles said.He dropped the sponge back in the sink and rinsed his hands.

“You back with me?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, sorry.Just…Checked out for a second.”

Dad leaned against the sink and tilted his head.Stiles turned off the tap and grabbed a towel.

“Dad, I’m fine.”

“I’d be more convinced if you weren’t white as a sheet.”

“I will _be_ fine, then.”Stiles hung the towel back on the hook and tried to will more pallor into his face.“Have you heard from Talia what the pack meeting was about?”

Stiles knew Dad wasn’t going to let it go forever but he eased back with a shrug.“No, but I’m sure if it’s something important then I’ll be read into it.I figured Derek or Laura would have told you by now.”

“I texted them but they haven’t answered.They’re probably sleeping in or something.”

“Hmm,” Dad said, noncommittal.“Well, I’m sure they’ll be over here at some point.Scott will be in a couple of hours, though, so let’s get the chores finished before I lose all the help.”

Dad patted his shoulder and went back to the living room.

Stiles drifted through the rest of the housework that afternoon and fought to keep himself completely present and aware.Lydia’s voice drifted to him in odd moments, bits and pieces of things she’d said over the years.Once, he thought he saw her reflection in the mirror instead of his.Stiles took time to count his fingers and breathe before he walked out of the bathroom.Dad was right, he did look extra pale.

When Scott arrived they ate supper and settled in the living room to watch TV.Stiles barely paid attention, eyes unfocused and lip between his teeth. Dad left and went to his office for a while.

Mini-Stiles elbowed him in the side.

“Hey, can we build some more siege weapons tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Scott said.“Please?We want to make an entire army’s worth!”

Stiles managed to snort.“I think Dad or Melissa would string me up by my toes.”

The boys kept wheedling at him until he gave in.

“Fine, but if they say something I’m blaming everything on you guys.”

The boys cheered and high fives each other. Stiles smiled and swallowed down a sudden surge of nausea. 

That night, after the boys went to sleep and so had Dad, finally, Stiles took his notebook and went up onto the roof.The night was clear and bright, the full moon was coming up within the next few days.Stiles stretched out his bad leg and drew his other one up to prop the notebook open on his knee.The first letter to Lydia was still there.Of course it was, but it still surprised him that he’d managed to write it at all.

Stiles ran his fingers over the ink.Then, without thinking too much, he clicked the pen and pressed it to the space beneath his first entry.

_Lydia,_

_Are you trying to tell me something or am I just going crazy again?_

He could almost hear Lydia laughing at that question. 

_I wish I did have some instructions now.Even half a map drawn in crayon would be helpful._

_-S._

It still wasn’t really a letter by any means, but Stiles didn’t feel the need to add to it.But he stayed up top, going over the words, thinking about what he’d seen and heard and felt throughout the day.It was enough to drown in which, given recent experiences, he could say without any exaggeration. 

“What am I supposed to figure out?” he asked the night sky.“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”

Lydia didn’t answer him.He should have expected that, too.Unless it was life and death she would dangle the clues in front of his nose until he got fed up and did his own research to put it all together.It was one of her favorite forms of entertainment, a pillar of their friendship, anda way they had continued their push and pull rivalry over valedictorian, back when that was still a thing that mattered.

“These clues suck, by the way.”

_Then maybe you should try to suck less._

Stiles huffed and bit down on his trembling lip. 

“I don’t want to go in that direction, Lyds.I don’t have enough sanity for that.”

She didn’t answer but if she’d been there, really been there, he bet she would have rolled her eyes, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and said something like, _you know how to handle crazy.What’s a little more?_

From there and without his permission, Stiles’s thoughts spiraled out to the rest of the pack.To the end before the end.

Stiles scrubbed at his wet face.It felt like his life and all the people around him had taken a single, huge, wrong turn.Like missing the bottom stair and dropping through a hole.Or stepping off the path in the woods just a few feet and losing all sense of direction never to regain it.

Was it horrible of him that he had no idea what the younger members of the pack had wanted to be after graduation?He’d never connected with them as deeply as Scott had.Scott had been the mother hen making sure all the kids went to school and kept up their grades when they weren’t fighting for their lives. 

Stiles had been too busy trying to patch things up with his Dad, working through the trauma of being possessed, and all the subsequent threats, and catching back up on all the school he'd missed in between. 

And then he lost his chance.Only Liam had made it back from the ghost rider’s train station before the hunt moved on.He hadn’t taken it well and then he hadn’t made it past the county line.Scott had been so devastated and there hadn’t even been time to dig a grave.

Then there was Isaac.He’d been in France up until Chris called him to bring reinforcements to help with the spirit monster.They’d arrived only in time to be torn apart by it.They’d had to leave Isaac in the middle of a road, him and Liam both, and Chris only a few miles later, Melissa screaming their names as Dad held her back and Parrish held back Scott.

And Kira.Kira was still with the skin walkers out in the desert.Did she even know that she would never see any of them again?She might never even find out what happened.

And after that, the running, the hiding, the stealing. The fucking RV, and Stiles drew the line. He couldn't go there. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

“What are you trying to tell me?” he asked again.

Stiles closed his eyes and strained his hearing and hoped for anything.A whisper.A feeling.Hell, he would even have taken a smoke signal at that point.Because she was either trying to tell him something important, warn him, or…

Or he was just a broken pile of issues calling on a ghost who was, technically, still alive, but haunting him all the same.

Honestly, Stiles couldn’t decide which was worse.

He heard it again.The sound of a bear trap snapping shut.But instead of metal on metal it was metal on flesh and screaming.

Stiles covered his ears.

“No, I’m not going there.Not to that one.”

Magic cracked under his skin and Stiles clenched his hands into fists, willing it down, down and down into that dark pit inside him.It bubbled up, pushing back, but Stiles was nothing if not stubborn and he was _not_ doing this right now, thank you very much.

His magic fell back.Stiles wasn’t surprised to open his eyes and find blood dripping down his face and off his chin.

He went back inside and snuck to the bathroom to get cleaned up.When he caught his reflection something flickered behind him.A shape, vaguely human, ill defined.Stiles inhaled deeply and willed it gone.

Then it was.

His remaining reflection was pasty and a little bruised-looking around the eyes.Stiles sneered at it and cleaned up, disposing of the bloody tissues and wiping everything down for stray drops or smears. Right now was just another moment he hated his weak, human body. All the stress was getting to him, that and the injuries, and it made him feel so damn _weak_.

He couldn’t tell whether it was Lydia’s disappointment or his own when he crawled back in bed and stared at the wall for the rest of the night.He decided it was his own.That was normal enough to bear without succumbing to complete and abject failure.

~

If anything, letting his mind go places he’d kept walled off for so long opened up that fissure even wider.The next day as he helped Mini-Stiles and Scott construct all kind of little siege devices he saw flashes of his old pack the same way Lydia had began appearing.

More than that, he could feel them.Moving on the edges of his perception.Watching him while it got steadily harder to ignore them.None of them spoke.Just Lydia and still the same things.

_You’re the one who always figures it out._

_Figure it out, Stiles._

Stiles jumped when Scott tugged on his sleeve.“It’s not staying together.”

Stiles helped him fix it with the glue and rubber bands.He was not being successful at acting normal if the looks the boys were exchanging around him were anything to go by.Stiles distracted them with collecting things to use as projectiles and slipped upstairs to the bathroom so he could let his mask fall, just for a second.

Stiles hung his head and worked on his breathing techniques.He could do this.He could get it together and not be a total disaster human for a day with the boys. 

He needed to get out of the house, though.Somewhere away from walls.The park popped into his mind.Nothing bad ever happened there, according to the Mini-Stiles in those dreams.Stiles could really go for a place untainted by memories of his own world at that moment.They could take the siege weapons that had already dried and try them out, that would keep everyone occupied until it was time to come home and cook supper for Dad.

When he came back downstairs the boys were in a whisper argument with each other and it cut off abruptly as he stepped into the room.They schooled their expressions into something vaguely innocent.How did Stiles ever get away with even half the things he did when he and Scott were so damn obvious?

“Wanna try out the catapults at the park?”

Scott beamed.“We were just gonna ask you that!We still have a bunch of marbles but we also found the old stones from the goldfish tank.”

“What tank?”

That prompted a full on story about Scott and Mini-Stiles’s disastrous foray into having fish as pets.Stiles listened with half an ear while they gathered the siege weapons and ammo and walked the few blocks to the park. 

“Did you ever have goldfish?” Scott finished when they were halfway there.

“Nah, no one really trusted me to have a pet.Not after the salamander incident.”

“What salamander incident?” Mini-Stiles asked.

By the time they got to the park both of the boys were breathless from laughing and Scott had to take a hit off his inhaler.

“My mom would have strangled you,” Scott wheezed.

“Yeah, she would have banned me from the house forever if I let a salamander get loose and end up in her salad.Yuck!”

Stiles snorted.“Believe me, I was grounded for a really long time over that.Melissa double checked all her food for months afterward.She said she was scarred for life.”

His Dad had given Stiles a stern talking to about responsibility and wild animals and leaving nature in nature.Mom had made him write an apology card to Melissa and then took him to hand deliver it with a verbal apology, as well. Stiles had been well into a guilty sulk when he heard Mom and Dad laughing about it when they thought Stiles was asleep that night. 

_We’ve got ourselves a handful_ , Mom had said while Dad groaned. _I’m sure he gets it all from your side._

The park was clear and real when they stepped off the pavement and onto the grass.Stiles breathed in the warm air and decided he liked the real thing better than the dream.The tangibility was comfort and he dug his fingers into the dirt as the boys set up the weapons and the targets they were going to try and hit. 

Scott lost interest in finding the right angles after about fifteen minutes and proceeded to fling the marbles by hand to knock over the action figures.Mini-Stiles was completely focused, tongue between his teeth, as he fiddled with the tilt and positions.

Time slipped away and so did some of Stiles’s uptight anxiety.He wasn’t seeing or hearing anything that shouldn’t be in the park so the change of scenery had worked.The sun began to burn his nose and cheeks so Stiles moved to the shady spot and ran a hand throughhis hair, uncaring if it stood up on end. 

Dad had been gently prodding him about a hair cut for a while.Mini-Stiles had been more vocal, grumbling about mullets and how it was a _travesty_ and that, yes, he knew how to spell that word and what it meant.

His hair was the longest it had ever been but Stiles wasn’t moved to do anything about it.As a kid, he’d always kept it buzzed off, like Mini-Stiles.Less work to keep up with and cheap to get done.He’d grown it out before the alpha pack came through and had gotten particular about keeping it gelled and styled, even up through the Dread Doctors.Once the wild hunt came through he’d stopped caring.It ranked so low in importance he couldn’t even assign it a number.

These days he mostly didn’t think about it unless he was in the shower or combing it out.When he looked in the mirror he wasn’t sure how to feel about who he saw.He couldn’t imagine buzzing it off again, going back to looking like the dumb, arrogant kid who’d gone looking for Laura Hale’s body.He also couldn’t bring himself to get his hair styled back to the way it was before the end of the world.

It was a stupid thing to think about but it felt like both versions of Stiles had died.He couldn’t go back to being either one of them, not even in appearance.And he wasn’t sure who he was now, anyway.It changed day by day depending on his mental landscape.He wasn’t thrilled about the mess on his head but he also wasn’t bothered enough to make a decision about it.It was just hair.

A prickle on the back of his neck pulled Stiles out of his drifting thoughts and he looked over his shoulder.A dark sedan had pulled into the parking lot beyond the swing sets.Stiles froze and watched it idle and then turn off.It was the same sedan that had lingered outside Melissa’s house Friday after school.

The door opened and a tall figure unfolded from the driver’s side.

Rafael McCall.

Stiles blinked but it was definitely him.A mixture of feelings swept through him.He’d never gotten on particularly well with Scott’s dad.Part of him still harbored a grudge from childhood when he’d learned about Scott’s accident on the stairs.Even later, after Agent McCall had saved Stiles’s life and then been read into the supernatural, there was still a push-pull of discomfort and distrust muddying the water between them further.

And, despite all that, McCall had offered to help him get into the pre-FBI program.Stiles never did understand that and he hadn’t had a chance to re-evaluate Agent McCall for it, or accept the offer.

Agent McCall stepped over the low rope separating the park from the lot and strode over towards them.Scott spotted him and yelled, “Dad!” and then took off to meet him halfway.Agent McCall smiled and scooped him up.

Stiles got to his feet and Mini-Stiles was there beside him.The sudden subdued attitude from Mini-Stiles told him there was some sort of issue here, too, about McCall and his split from Melissa.Stiles rested a hand on his back.

“Hey, Stiles.”

“Hi, Mr. McCall,” Mini-Stiles answered with little enthusiasm.

Agent McCall walked with Scott towards them.The entire time he stared at Stiles the same way McCall's other self had while interrogating Stiles.The same way Dad looked at him but with much less warmth and familiarity.There was a downward twist to his mouth by the time he reached them.

“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met.I’m Rafael, Scott’s dad.”

Agent McCall held out a hand.Stiles shook it.McCall’s eyes flicked down for a second.To the scars because Stiles hadn’t covered them and the sleeves had ridden up.There was a weird little static shock between them before he pulled away.

“Jimmy Stilinski.”

McCall tilted his head to the side. 

“Stilinski?I wasn’t aware John had an older kid.”

“Nephew.”

The sudden cold expression that moved through McCall’s eyes shot a dagger of apprehension through him.

“You’re Gary’s kid?”

Stiles clenched his jaw.“Yeah.”

Stiles had run into a few people here and there that had known Gary and put two-and-two together when he was out with Dad or Mini-Stiles.The looks he received were either suspicious or pitying by turns. 

“You seen much of your dad recently?”

Stiles shrugged.“He’s a name on my birth certificate, I’ve never actually met him.John’s my dad in every way that matters.”

Stiles did not care for the calculating expression McCall wore before he schooled it into something more neutral.

“That’s probably for the best, I imagine.He never seemed to have much paternal instincts.”

Stiles refrained from rolling his eyes.He might not have thought much of Gary, either, but the smug arrogance grated all the same.

“You visiting for the summer, then?” McCall continued.

“No, I live here now with them.”

“Really.”McCall shifted his stance.“How are you liking it?”

McCall kept up a litany of small talk questions that seemed innocuous on the surface but Stiles knew he was fishing for something.Scott interjected here and there, dragging McCall over to the dirt to see the siege weapons they’d made, and regaled him about Stiles’s cooking.Mini-Stiles was quiet the entire time.Stiles made a mental not to talk to him in private about that.

Then, when McCall stood up his jacket opened and Stiles glimpsed a pair of cuffs on his belt.Nothing unusual about that, Dad and McCall both carried two sets as part of their everyday wear, but it was the anti-magic sigils scored into the metal that turned Stiles's blood cold.

McCall’s eyes narrowed a fraction.He noticed the change in Stiles.

“Well, it’s almost time to make dinner, we should get back to the house,” Stiles said, not caring if it came out abrupt.He needed to be as far away from McCall as he could get, preferably with a thick shield of spells between them.

“I was thinking the same thing,” McCall said.He looked down at Scott, who as hanging off his arm in complete adoration.“What’s say you and I get something from the diner, bud?”

Scott whooped.“That sounds awesome!”

“Did you tell Melissa you were picking him up?” Stiles cut in.

McCall raised his eyebrow.

“I’m babysitting today,” he continued.“She didn’t tell me you were coming to get him.”As much as he wanted to leave, he didn’t want to abandon Scott with McCall, either.

“I’ll call her on the way.This is a surprise visit, I didn’t even know I’d be in town until a few hours ago,” he lied.“Don’t worry, you won’t get in trouble.”

McCall winked and Stiles smothered the urge to stand on tiptoe and knock it off his face.

“Oh, well, I have her desk number, let me just call real quick to make sure.”Stiles plastered on a fake smile and had his phone out and the speed dial hit before McCall could say anything.“Hey, Melissa?Yeah, it’s me.No, everything’s okay, just got a question for you.Scott’s dad is here and wants to take him to dinner.Oh, yeah, here he is.”

Stiles held out the phone to McCall.It was probably wrong to relish the sharp annoyance that pinched his face.

McCall took the phone and stepped away to speak with Melissa.Stiles didn’t need werewolf hearing to figure out the call involved a lot of choice and angry words were coming from Melissa.But, as the call wound down McCall said, “Understood, he’ll be home by eight.”

McCall closed the phone and handed it back to Stiles.Stiles tried to tone down his grin.

“Thanks for clearing that up.Can’t be too careful these days.”

“No, you can’t,” McCall agreed as if he were pulling his own teeth.“You boys want a ride home?”

“No thanks, it’s not far,” Stiles said.He glanced down to Scott, who was looking between them, puzzled.“See you tomorrow, alright?”

“Okay.”

Scott gave him and Mini-Stiles each a tight hug and then took McCall’s hand as they went back to his car.Stiles watched until they were out of sight before he crouched down to Mini-Stiles’s level.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Mini-Stiles lowered his hand from where he’d been chewing on his fingernails.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.But I need to ask you a question.”Mini-Stiles bit his lip.“Did he ever hurt Scott?When he was drunk or, or even if he wasn’t.”

Mini-Stiles’s eyes went wide.He nodded.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Mini-Stiles pursed his lips like he wanted to keep it inside, but he shrugged and said, in a quiet voice, “I head Dad on the phone last summer.He-Scott had a concussion.His dad was drunk and was waving his hands around.He hit Scott.Hit him hard enough he fell back into the kitchen counter.”

Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Scott doesn’t remember it,” Mini-Stiles said in a rush.He twisted his hands together.“I didn’t tell him, he was crying so much after his dad left and I couldn’t—“

Stiles pulled his younger self in for a hug.

“It’s okay, short stack,” he said.Mini-Stiles clung to him and shuddered.

“I didn’t know what to do!”

Stiles hushed him.“You protected Scott, that’s what I did, too.”

“He keeps showing up and leaving again.Scott’s fine when he’s gone.He gets sad but not as sad as he does when his dad leaves and promises to come back and then breaks his promise.”

“I know,” Stiles murmured.He ran his hand up and down Mini-Stiles’s back for a minute.“Come on, we should get home.”

They gathered up the stuff they’d brought and began the walk back.Stiles kept his senses expanded, wary of anyone else out walking, of cars going up and down the road.Beyond the domestic situation with McCall, which was bad enough, he had to be a hunter on top of it in this world. 

A hunter Stiles had compelled away from his son's house only days before. Stiles loved to insinuate that McCall was dumber than a box of rocks but he really wasn't. Not in Stiles's world and not here.

So many reactions were tangling themselves around each other, all the implications, the dangers, the possibilities.The only thing keeping him tethered to the present was the fact that Mini-Stiles was bumping into his side and so miserable he wasn’t watching where he was going.If McCall had a team of hunters here then Stiles had to keep watch.

It as all he could do not to run them back to the house and slam all the protections into overdrive, initiating a magical lockdown.

 _I have to trust my feelings, Stiles,_ Lydia’s voice whispered in his ear. _It’s not an exact science._

“No matter what I trust I’ll probably start another war,” Stiles muttered in answer. His head and his heart were, for once, in total agreement on this situation. 

It was bad and he had to do something.

“What?” Mini-Stiles asked.

“Nothing.”

They got home and started on supper. Stiles relaxed visibly once the protective wards closed in around them. Their comforting hum opened his chest and allowed him to breathe, it cleared his mind and let him think.

Mini-Stiles helped for a while, but then he went to the living room and started playing a video game.One of the fighter ones by the sound of it.After Stiles put the casserole in the oven he took one of the small kitchen knives and slipped upstairs.

It was much faster to scratch the sigils into that knife than it had been the pocket knife Stiles took off the carjacker last year.It wasn’t going to stop any werewolves or be of much use against a gun, but in close quarters, if his back was against the wall, it would work well enough.

It might make him an opportunity.

Laying the magic down on it was like ripping off his own fingernails, though.The headache flared up with a vengeance but he pushed through it.He’d pushed through far worse on more than one occasion under far worse conditions.The accompanying nosebleed wasn't fun, but he turned it into an advantage, as well. Blood magic was a peculiar offshoot and generally frowned upon but he was using his own blood. Stiles was also willing and it opened up a more direct channel from him to the knife. The charms that resulted were strengthened more than normal.

The next part was less strenuous, no magic required.Stiles cut up an older pair of jeans and used the denim to make a sheath and figured out how to attach it to the back of his belt sideways so all he had to do was reach behind him and pull it out. It was crude and ugly and but it would work for now.His flannel covered it from view.

He tried it out a few times to get a feel for how quick he could use it.It was going to take some practice to get it down smooth, but in a pinch it might save his life, or someone else's.

When he came back downstairs, a little shaky, a little lightheaded, he discreetly checked the rest of the warding around the house and then sacked out behind Mini-Stiles on the couch.Mini-Stiles rubbed at his cheek, trying to hide the tear tracks there.Stiles put his feet up on the coffee table.

“You wanna play?” Mini-Stiles asked.

“Sure.”

Mini-Stiles switched out the fighting game for a racing one.They did their best to run each other off the tracks.They went a couple rounds before Mini-Stiles paused the game and turned to face Stiles.

“You were scared,” he said, blunt as ever.“Why were you scared of Scott’s Dad?Did he…Did he do something else to Scott?Something worse?”

Stiles put his controller down and waved his hand.“No.Not like what you’re thinking, okay?In my world there was a similar accident on the stairs when his dad was drunk.He left and was in and out of Scott’s life just like this and it really hurt Scott.But this one…We need to be careful around him.I think he’s a hunter.”

“You mean like the ones who took you?”

Stiles nodded.He tugged at his shirtsleeves.

“Hunters use a lot of different things to accomplish what they do.He was carrying something against witches.You don’t carry something like that unless you know how to use it.”

Mini-Stiles swallowed hard.

“You need to tell Dad.”

“I will,” he assured him.“After dinner.”

If the FBI was employing hunters within their ranks, officially, then this world just kicked up the notch to a level of horror Stiles had never contemplated before.Taking the monsters and fighting out of the shadows and creating the potential for public reveal. 

Stiles had read and seen enough X-Men stories to guess how well that was likely to go for anyone connected to the supernatural.His time in the cave as a prisoner would be nothing compared to something orchestrated by the government.Because that’s exactly where something like that was likely to end.

Mini-Stiles thumped his knee, bringing Stiles back to the present.

“I want to be there.”

“Dude, no—“

“Yes,” he insisted, jutting his chin out.“I need to know so if I see anything I know what I’m looking at, okay?I’m around Scott all the time, even when his dad decides to show up.If he _is_ a hunter then he’s probably had hunter things with him and I’ve never noticed.If I know then I can tell you and Dad before he does something.”

“You can’t go looking for it,” Stiles said.“This isn’t a game and if he is a hunter then he could hurt _you_ , understand?”

“I still need to know.”

Stiles knew himself well enough to know his younger self would find a way to listen in or get at the truth somehow. 

“Fine, we’ll both tell him.Okay?”

Mini-Stiles maintained eye contact and held out his pinky finger.

“You better swear to it.”

Stiles sighed and hooked his finger through Mini-Stiles’s.

“I swear, you can be there.But I need to do the talking.Got it?”

They shook on it.

“Got it.”

~

Dad got home about an hour later.They had dinner and made small talk.Dad picked up on the tension the moment they sat down at the table, looking between the two of them as the conversation went stilted. 

“Did something happen today?” Dad asked.

Stiles looked at his younger self and then back at Dad as he picked at his dinner.

“Yeah, and we need to talk.”

Dad settled back at the table, worried lines on his forehead. 

“How much do you know about Scott’s dad?”

Dad went through a series of expressions before he shook his head.

“Well, we were acquaintances in high school, he was a grade above me and two above Melissa.They got together a few years after graduation and we became colleagues at the station.We were never close but after Mischief and Scott became attached at the hip we were always meeting up.Rafe decided to go into the FBI when Scott was seven, he and Melissa separated a little after that.Didn’t you know him in your world?”

Stiles blew out a breath.

“Yeah, I did.Had a really complicated relationship with him because of what he did to Scott.Something similar to what he did here, actually.”

Dad’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.Not at the statement, but that Stiles knew.Dad looked to Mini-Stiles and his face fell.

“Crap.You know about that?”

Mini-Stiles nodded, apologetic.

“We’re both good at overhearing phone conversations,” Stiles said with a shrug. 

Dad shook his head and leaned forward.He put his hand over Mini-Stiles’s.

“What happened to Scott was an accident, Mischief.Rafe didn’t mean to but he had to take responsibility for it.That’s why he left. And why he started going to AA meetings to get his life back on track so he could be safe around Scott.”

“But he still hurts him,” Mini-Stiles said.“He breaks almost all of his promises and it makes Scott cry.”

Dad closed his eyes, nodded. 

“I’m not making excuses for him, and I can’t tell you why he does that.He’s got to figure out what kind of a father he wants to be for himself.But Scott has his mom.He has you.And you,” Dad reached for Stiles as well.“Just be there for him when he needs it.That’s all we can do until Rafe steps up. Mini-Stiles sniffled, upset.Dad pulled him over into a hug.When he looked to Stiles he said, “Was that everything?”

“If only,” Stiles said.He ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward, elbows on the table.“Look, I’ve never been a fan of his, but the man in my world, he eventually came around with Scott.He helped us.Even saved my life once or twice.But this one…”

“This one, what?”

“He’s a fucking hunter,” Stiles spat.He didn’t realize he’d gripped his own arms until his nails bit into his skin. 

“No,” Dad shook his head with a small, dismissive scoff.“No, Rafe’s always had a stark black and white view of things.He never even wanted to let Scott believe in Santa or the tooth fairy.He saw it as lying.He wouldn’t even do Halloween as a kid, or with Scott. If science can't explain it then he refuses to believe it.”

Stiles bit down on the stab of hurt at the dismissal.

“Yeah, well, he was carrying the kind of cuffs witch hunters carry.And from the way he was looking at me I’m pretty sure he figure out what I was.”

Maybe it was the ill-conceived panic in his voice but Dad paused and thought it through for a moment.

“You’re sure that’s what you saw?”

Stiles shivered.“You don’t forget the kind of device that makes you that helpless.”He was aware of Mini-Stiles looking up at him, at the worry and concern emanating from from him and Dad. His throat tightened and the words came out strangled.“They used to put those on me.Back in the cage.When they would let my arms down for a while so I wouldn’t lose my hands from lack of circulation.I preferred the ropes.”

Dad came around the table and pulled Stiles up into a hug.Stiles hugged him back and leaned into it.That inner shakiness came out a bit.Dad ran a hand up and down Stiles’s back, trying to soothe it out.

“I don’t know why he’s a hunter here but the way he looked at me…He _knows_.And he—he had a coldness in his eyes, Dad. Especially when I had to say that Gary was my dad.”

“Hey.Look at me.”Dad pulled away.“Whatever’s going on, he’s not going to do anything to you, I’ll make sure of it.”

“He’s a hunter and he’s FBI. What if he’s sanctioned for this?If hunters are in use by the FBI there’s not a lot you can do if he decides to go on an extermination spree." Stiles implored Dad to understand. "It’s not just me, he could bring down the Hale pack.The coven.Everyone, if he's got that kind of power behind him.”

Dad, infuriatingly calm, said, “You don’t know that, not for sure.”

Stiles clenched his teeth and tried to find somehow better to explain it.

“Out of all the hunters I’ve ever met?Two of them were decent people.The rest of them only wanted to kill anything not human.And some didn’t even mind human collateral.We can’t underestimate him just because you think you know him.”

“And we can’t jump to conclusions without solid evidence, either.”

“I know what I saw!”

Dad held up a hand.“And I believe you.I believe you, okay?But I want to at least talk to him before any of us go off half cocked.”

Stiles stepped away and gripped his hair with both hands and paced.He didn’t know what he expected Dad to say.He didn’t even know what he wanted Dad to do.Something deep and scared inside him wanted to pack everything up and run.Go to ground, hide, let the shadows swallow them so McCall would never catch up. Other parts wanted to contact the pack and the coven and put everyone on high alert.Circle the wagons, put weapons in everyone’s hands, and be ready. 

But he’d seen how both ways could end in absolute carnage and he didn’t want to be responsible for ending Beacon Hills and everyone in it again.

Was this what Lydia was trying to tell him?Was he supposed to find a third option or something?

“What is that?”

Dad tugged his arm around and lifted the back of Stiles’s shirt.Stiles jerked away.

Dad’s expression shifted into something close to anger.

“Stiles, why do you have a knife?”

Stiles scoffed.“Why do you think?I was stupid about Lahey.I was completely nieve about Deaton.I’m not making the same mistake a third time.Not again, not with a hunter.”

Dad clenched his jaw.

“Stiles, I hear what you’re saying.But there’s a right way to go about this and it’s not like this.”Dad held out his hand.“I need you to give me the knife.”

Stiles jerked away from him. 

“No.”Stiles spread his hands. “Why aren't you understanding this?He’s a hunter, he’s in town, and he knows I’m a fucking witch.You can’t ask me to go out there unarmed with him lurking.”

“I’m listening.I’m hearing everything you’re saying, son, and I am _on your side_.You’re scared and you’re reacting the only way you know how.It’s okay, but I don’t want you going around town in that state with a weapon like that at hand.Not unless you’re on the level and right now?" Dad pursed his lips. "Right now you’re not.”

Dad was gentle about it but that just made it worse.Stiles’s shoulders hunched up.

“You don’t believe me. Not really.”

Dad exhaled sharply.

“Stiles, I believe you.But I want to see the full board before I make a move, that way one wrong jump doesn’t land us in a bigger mess.”Dad approached him slowly, shaking his head.“I’m going to make sure that’s he’s not here to hurt you, ok?Or anyone else.So give me the knife and let me do just that.”

Dad held his hand out.Stiles opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak for how furious he was. How betrayed.Stiles reached back and pulled out the knife.He held it by the blade and gave it to Dad.When he took it away and set it aside on the counter something caved in Stiles’s chest.

“Thank you,” Dad said. 

“Whatever.”

Dad then reached out to embrace Stiles again.Stiles jerked away from him.He held up a hand, as if to push Dad away.His heart sped up.His breath came quick and shallow.Stiles shook his head.

“Stiles—“

“You’re de-clawing me when I need a weapon most.You’re not protecting me.”

Dad flinched as if he'd been slapped.Before he could speak again Stiles was gone.Side-stepping around Mini-Stiles, who was wide eyed and frozen, then up the stairs, slamming his door, and shoving a chair underneath the handle to keep Dad out. 

Stiles pressed a hand to the wall and pumped in more energy to the standing wards. When he was done he pressed a shirt to his nose.For a moment he swayed and and held onto the dresser for support as the room slid into a double focus, but he pulled himself together and locked his window.

Stiles didn’t have a bat anymore.He didn’t have any other knives or even a lacrosse stick.And he was now too damn drained to lay the same kind of magic on another object.So he dragged his blankets and pillows onto the floor and put them in the far corner where he could keep an eye on the door and the window.He hugged a pillow to his chest and ignored Dad’s knocking and pleading.

He stayed awake and watched and seethed and hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY FOR THE ANGST. I almost feel bad for this chapter.
> 
> Not really. But kinda. Maybe sorta.
> 
> It's definitely not the end of the angst train, though.


	5. Impossible Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, it was a day for impossible things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for anxiety and panic attacks, also descriptions of violence.

Waking up was miserable as hell.Stiles left his room early to clean up in the bathroom.His nose had bled overnight and it was worse than it had been at Melissa’s.He was exhausted, his head was still pounding, and his insides were all knotted up. 

He hid the pillow case in his laundry pile and swore to remember to take it down later.

Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, already dressed for work, when Stiles slipped down the stairs.He had a cup of coffee between his hands but he wasn’t drinking it.He looked as awful as Stiles felt, his face lined with weariness, eyes rimmed red.He glanced up as Stiles hovered in the doorway. 

For a moment neither of them moved.Stiles was still so angry at what had happened last night.But he also felt guilty as hell for going for a parting hit like he had and making Dad look like that again.Stiles didn’t want to be mad, but he couldn’t be anything else if Dad wouldn’t really get what Stiles was saying, what he knew to be possible.

And he hated being stripped of protection he gave up literal blood and sweat and a few tears to make.

Stiles ducked away and went to the couch.He curled up in the corner and turned the TV on.The spike of noise as a commercial scrawled across the screen was jarring to the silence.He began to flip through channels, not even focused on what was on, just to have something to do.

He head Dad’s chair scrape across the floor.He moved around the kitchen dumping his coffee out, rinsing the cup, putting it on the dish rack.

Dad came into the living room and got his coat from the back of the chair.Stiles kept his eyes on the TV.He felt Dad watching him, felt him open his mouth to say something.But he didn’t.Dad picked up his keys from the candy dish.Shuffled them until he came up with the house key.

He approached Stiles and leaned down to kiss his head and squeeze his shoulder.

“I love you, kiddo.”

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut.He wasn’t going to say anything, he wasn’t going to poke that horrible thing from last night, but he had always been weak.

“Dad…why?”

Dad stopped short and looked back at Stiles.His face fell and he came to sit on the cushion next to Stiles.

“Why can’t you just see?” Stiles pressed his crossed arms tighter over his upset stomach.“Why can’t you trust me?”

The questions came out raspy and hurt.Dad put a hand on his knee.

“My job isn’t just protecting you from outside threats,” Dad said.“It’s about protecting you from yourself, too.From making a fatal mistake.”

“What did you think I was going to do?”

The thought that Dad saw him as a threat was enough to make Stiles want to throw up or go disappear somewhere into the shadows of Beacon Hills again.If Dad thought that of him, that he was just waiting to hurt someone else, then its as all for nothing.He might as well have never stopped being a vigilante.

“You were walking around armed in your own home, Stiles.A home you warded for the apocalypse, where you know is safe because you made it that way.”

“So?Defenses can fail and I can’t ward against everything—“

“You weren’t thinking with a rational mind last night,” Dad cut in.“You let your fear dictate your actions.That’s the worst kind of recipe to add a weapon into the mix with.”

Stiles pulled back.

“I would never hurt you or Mini-Me.”

“What about Rafe?If you had gone out somewhere, to the store, and he happened to be there and surprised you?Can you say, a hundred percent, that you wouldn’t have done something drastic if you’d had that knife on you?”

Stiles worked his jaw, wanting to say no.It didn’t come out, though.Dad sighed and looked up to the ceiling, gathering his thoughts.When he spoke again his voice was softer pitched, but the words still firm as stone.

“You’ve been through an incredible amount in a very short period of time.It’s conditioned you to react in ways that kept you alive in your world, but here they will get someone killed, or send you to prison.I don’t want that.Do you?”

“No,” Stiles whispered.

“Good.”Dad exhaled sharply and patted Stiles’s leg.“My main goal as your dad is to keep you safe and help you grow up.Sometimes what you think that means and what I think that means isn’t going to intersect.But I’m not trying to leave you defenseless.You have your magic.You still have to be careful with that but at least it takes more forethought for you to use it than lashing out with a knife.”

Stiles clamped his teeth down over the rebuttal ready to fly.He did have his magic it just wasn’t working right because he was tired and stressed and a knife would have helped that.

“I’m trying to make sure you gain enough solid ground in your head to handle yourself without being an unintentional danger to anyone else.”

Stiles couldn’t help but flinch.He balled up his hands into guilty fists.It was too late for that, he already had been an unintentional danger.And an intentional one.And on some level Stiles understood what Dad was saying but at the same time it just wasn’t the same.

“I’ll give you the knife back after we work with Dr. Sharon and get you balanced out.”

Stiles paled.

“Dad, please.I have to have something before then!”

At that moment there was a knock at the door.Dad looked up, then at the clock, and he gave Stiles a small smile.

“I know you do.I’ve got that part covered.”

Dad went to answer the door.Shawn was on the other side, clutching a bunch of heavy plastic bags in one hand.

“Morning, John.Selena.”

Shawn ruffled Stiles’s hair on his way to the kitchen, breezing by as if both him and Dad didn’t look like complete and utter shit.Stiles batted at his hand and then wiped his face.He turned an incredulous look on Dad.

“A babysitter.Really?”

“An armed babysitter.Worst case scenario, if something happens, you can throw Shawn at the problem.That’ll will give you enough time to call the station and have the entire department on their way to help.If it’s that dire.”

A bubble of inappropriate laughter threatened to spill out of him but Stiles swallowed it.As amusing as it was to imagine literally flinging Shawn at any number of problems his mind could conjure, it wasn’t enough to assuage the blinding panic of hunters descending on the house occupied by an angry nine year-old, a witch whose magic was on the fritz, and a human deputy.

“You have no idea what hunters without consciences are capable of, Dad.”

“Maybe not first hand, but I’ve listened to what you’ve said on the subject, and not just last night.I’m gonna go meet with Rafe and straighten all this out.One way or another, I’m going to have proof of what’s going on with him and what he wants.When I get home I’ll tell you.Then we’ll go from there.”

Dad said it in a reassuring kind of way.Stiles grabbed Dad’s arm in a bruising grip.

“Don’t go to see him alone,” he begged.“Please, take someone with you.Take Shawn.”

“Shawn is here with you and Mischief today,” Dad said.He pried Stiles’s fingers off and squeezed Stiles’s hand between his.“I’ll have backup, I promise.”

“Don’t underestimate him.Even though you know him, you can’t—“

“Hey.Look at me.”Dad waited until Stiles stopped talking.“I’m not going in blind and it’s not my first time meeting with someone dangerous.I know what I need to do.I need you to trust me right now, okay?Trust that I have this handled, because I do.”

Dad kept Stiles’s eye contact until Stiles finally nodded.Dad tugged him forward into a hug and Stiles may have held on far more tightly than he should have. 

“I’ll be back for supper,” Dad said.

“Promise?” Stiles said, desperate.

“I promise.”

When he pulled away, Dad swiped his thumb through the tears under Stiles’s eyes and patted his cheek.“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Stiles had to sit there while Dad got up, spoke to Shawn for a few minutes, and then walked out the door.Stiles ran a harsh hand through his hair and tried not to panic as the cruiser started up and backed out of the driveway.

Dad was going off to see a hunter.He was going to see a hunter with backup, but not even werewolves and he wasn’t the least bit prepared and—

Shawn dropped a hand on his head and messed his hair up again.

“Come on, I got a lot of stuff I need to do and I’m gonna need your help,” Shawn said, oblivious to the fact Stiles was about to vibrate right out of his skin because Dad was meeting with a hunter.“You should go shower and wake up the little terror.I’ll get some breakfast going.”

When Stiles didn’t move Shawn took his arm and hauled him up bodily and pushed him towards the stairs, away from the front door.

“If I don’t hear you getting in that shower in two minutes I’ll shove you in with all your clothes on.I’ve done it before to stubborn werewolves, I’ll do it to you, too.”

There was a bit of amusement in Shawn’s voice but his eyes were serious.Stiles rolled his eyes with a huff and went upstairs.

“Don’t forget to shake the animals out of that rat’s nest first,” Shawn called up after him.

He flipped Shawn off and said a few choice words before he was out of sight.

This was going to be a long fucking day.

~

Diaz and Klein met John at the park down the street from the Holiday Inn Rafe McCall always stayed at twenty minutes after he left the house.John had another coffee in hand, half finished.This was a day coffee was not only wanted but essential. 

“Morning, Sheriff,” Diaz said and leaned against the side of the cruiser. 

“Morning.Did you get the file I asked for?”

“Sure thing.”She handed it over.John glanced at the label and gave her an appreciative nod.

“You said there might be some trouble?” Klein prompted.

“I hope not, but I’m not willing to take any chances.”

John gave them both a rundown of Stiles’s interaction with Rafe McCall at the park.Diaz and Klein had both been read into the supernatural on the same case John had been, so they were aware of the different factions of citizens they were sworn to serve and protect.Talia Hale had given the department a list of known hunting families as well as information on how they operated so they could be aware.

“Jimmy is about as terrified as I’ve ever seen him.He’s come up against hunters before.Most of the fresh injuries he’d had when we caught his case last year were from being held captive.They kept him strung up in some sort of cage.”

Diaz’s face darkened and Klein swore. 

“He’s a witch but he’s human,” John continued, and gave them an edited version of why and how he ended up in Beacon Hills.

Klein looked between John and the files.

“You think McCall was one of them?”

“No, Jimmy confirmed he’s not.But from the conversation they had, Jimmy felt that McCall had clocked him and he’s scared of being hunted again.”

Diaz blew out a breath.“I would be, too.”

“I don’t want to go in accusing him of anything.I just want to find out what he’s into and if I need to worry about someone coming after my kid.”

“Well, according to the hunter archives, most tend to move in groups for safety.I checked with the desk clerk and McCall checked in alone.No one else who checked in around the same time fit the profile of a hunting party.I’ve been running plates but nothing suspicious or too clean so far,” Klein said.“I have Mercer checking the surrounding hotels and motels, just in case.”

“I called and talked with my friend at the field office in San Fran.As far as she can tell, McCall took some vacation time.He’s not due back until mid-July,” Diaz said.

John’s frown deepened.“Did she have any insight into his casework?”

“Not a lot, but she did hear about a cartel case he’d been working earlier last year.Something big went down on it and it was kept pretty quiet.McCall was injured and she said he seemed different after the fact.He wasn’t chasing skirts around the office anymore, became withdrawn and quiet, that kind of thing.”

Rafe had never been as big a talker as either of John’s boys, but he’d never been quiet, either.Gregarious, that was the word John would have used to describe him.He’d always had a way for talking to people until they gave him what he wanted, sometimes convinced it had been their idea to begin with.

“Oh, and the desk clerk mentioned something strange,” Klein said, digging out his notepad.He flipped a few pages.“She said the cleaning lady was complaining about his room the last time she went by to service it.She caught him as he was going out the door and happened to look inside.Said he had what amounted to a murder board strung up on the walls with thumbtacks.Not only that, the carpet was muddy, like he’d been trekking through a swamp and brought it all into the room.”

John drummed his fingers on the cruiser door and sipped at the last bit of his coffee.Those clues did not instill a lot of good feelings in him.Rafe was a bit of a bloodhound when it came to his case work.He liked the challenge and the thrill of closing cases as much as he liked chasing women he wasn’t supposed to pursue. 

And he was also a career man.The climb was the big appeal of leaving Beacon Hills in the first place to somewhere he could be more than just a deputy or even sheriff.His professional reputation meant everything to him and he was calculated in making sure he juggled his cases and his vices just so while managing to keep on track for that higher office, that promotion.

But Rafe was not an outdoorsman.He liked his suits and fancy shoes and field work in nature was not his cup of tea.He’d sooner run suspects down across five blocks on foot than dip a toe anywhere that would strain his dry cleaning bill.

John wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it sounded as if Rafe was working something off the books.That was a giant red flag.

“All right.I don’t want to put him on the offensive right away.I’ll go in to talk to him.Klein, I want you down the hall.Diaz, in the parking lot.If you see anything that speaks of hunters give me a holler, otherwise we stay quiet.Got it?”

“Got it, boss.”

John parked by the Inn entrance and waved to the desk clerk.She waved back and indicated Rafe was still there.John took the elevator to the second floor.Klein had taken the stairs.Room 209 was at the end of the long hallway.John glimpsed Klein by the stairwell door as he strode past it.

It was quiet at this time of the morning, barely six o’clock.John approached the door and saw the flicker of light around the bottom.The faint murmur of a TV came from inside, the Early Show, if he wasn’t mistaken.

John rapped on the door.He heard movement inside and stepped back as the door opened.

Rafe McCall poked his head out, hair slicked back and wet from a shower.

“John?” Rafe squinted in the bright hallway lights.“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Rafe.Sorry to bother you this early but I figured you’d already be up.”They shook hands.“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute.”

Rafe was a bit slow to hide the annoyance but he huffed and made a gesture.“Give me five?”

“Sure.”

Rafe closed the door but John managed to glimpse the murder board Klein had mentioned.It stretched all along the far wall and seemed to cover every inch of wallpaper.No wonder the housekeeper was mad.

Rafe came back, dressed down in jeans and a button down shirt.“Wanna go grab a coffee?”

“Sure.You still drink those fancy Starbucks monstrosities?”

Rafe snorted.“I still like flavor in my coffee, yes.”

As they moved down the hall toward the elevator John’s phone chirped.He took it out and answered it.

“Hey, kiddo, you’re up early.”

“Boss, everything is still clear here.You want us to follow you?” Klein said.

“No, I already ate.I left you some sausage links in the fridge, though.Look on the middle shelf.”

“Copy that, we’ll keep watch.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you for dinner, bud.”

John got off the phone as the elevator doors closed.

“Someone’s up early,” Rafe commented with a sideways glance.

“Yeah, never fails.I have to pry him out of bed with a crowbar during the school year but as soon as summer comes around he’ll get up for his cartoons without any alarms.”

Rafe chuckled.They went out to the cruiser and got in.Rafe eyed the file John sat between them.

“Got a case going?”

“No, actually, this is an old one but it pertains to what I’d like to talk to you about.”

John drove them to Starbucks and ordered some coffees.Then he took Rafe to the park he’d met his deputies at and parked by the curb.

“So, what can I help you with?” Rafe asked and took a sip of a caramel something-or-other stacked with whip cream.

“I want to ask you about what happened yesterday when you talked to my kids at the park.”John chose his words carefully. 

Rafe frowned and shook his head, as if confused.

“Nothing happened.We chatted for a bit.I met your nephew.Seems like a good kid, Scott really likes him and his cooking, he couldn’t stop raving about the casseroles.”

Rafe was all smiles and easygoing attitude, no hint or twitch or anything to say he wasn’t being truthful.If John hadn’t had those conversations with Stiles he would have been none the wiser.

“Well, happy as I am to hear that, Jimmy came home scared to death of you.”John set his coffee in the cupholder.“I need to know if he’s right to be.”

Rafe blinked, face blank of emotion.

“I don’t think I did anything that could have made him scared, John.We just talked.”

“He was particularly concerned about the cuffs you were carrying.”

Rafe was good, but part of his facade slipped and he searched John’s face for clues of how to proceed.

“Has he ever been arrested?” 

“No.Worse, actually.”

John took the file and opened it up on the seat between them.Stiles’s photos that were taken at the hospital when he first arrived in Beacon Hills were there.The top picture, his vacant-eyed headshot, stared up at them.

“This is how Jimmy came to me, Rafe.”

Rafe’s eyes widened, genuinely, as he thumbed through the pictures.John studied Rafe as he got to the halfway mark in the file and took a leap.

“Jimmy used to be part of a werewolf pack.A human member learning magic.”

Rafe sent him a sharp look but he didn’t call him crazy.In fact, there was a flash of relief in his eyes, followed by deep suspicion.

“Hunters kidnapped him, held him captive, and used him as bait to kill everyone he loved who tried to rescue him.He alone survived.That’s what hunters did to a seventeen year old boy.”John let that sink in.“He recognized the handcuffs you had on your belt yesterday.A pair just like it were used on him.”

Rafe’s face went through a series of expressions.Shock.Empathy.Sadness.Anger.More suspicion.Rafe covered his mouth with his hand when he came to the blackened starburst on Stiles’s side from the magic tattoo that was used to transport him here, and he stared an extra long time at the photo of his wrists.

“So I have to ask.Are you a threat to my kid?”

“That depends,” Rafe said, albeit reluctantly.

“On what?” John fairly growled.

“On whether he’s a threat to me and mine.Same with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Rafe worked his bottom lip between his teeth.He shuffled the pictures back together and closed the file on top of them.His eyes, when he looked up, were hard and cold and clear.

“I’m here to track down his father, your brother.If either of you have any loyalty towards Gary or if you’re working with him, then we will have problems.If not, he has nothing to fear from me and neither do you.”

John’s eyes narrowed.“What the hell does Gary have to do with anything?”

“Everything,” Rafe said.

~

After his shower and getting Mini-Stiles up out of bed, they went downstairs and found Shawn making breakfast sandwiches.He was way too cheery for the circumstances, even Mini-Stiles was throwing him looks of disdain and judgement.

It didn’t help that Shawn was whistling Cindy Lauper unabashedly.

“What’s going on?” Mini-Stiles asked finally. 

“Well, I have a lot to do today and you’ve been volunteered to help.Or, Stiles has.You can help if you want.”

It was Stiles’s turn to glare at Shawn.

“I didn’t agree to this.”

“Nope, but you’re helping me anyway.”Shawn cleared the table and then began opening the bags he’d brought in.“You guys haven’t met my cousin Tommy but he’s getting married to his partner pretty soon.Everyone’s helping with the wedding prep and I’m on invitation duty.”

Out of the bags came stacks of invitations, envelopes, a veritable fortune in stamps, and glue sticks.

Stiles’s eyes went wide at the sheer amount.

“Are they inviting everyone from here to San Diego?”

Shawn snorted.“It sure looks like it, right?Tommy’s got a lot of friends in other packs, he’s one of our main communication coordinators.He helps run a pack network that keeps everyone informed of what’s going on and shares resources.It’s doubtful that everyone will show up, but there’s still going to be a lot of guests.It’d be rude not to invite them all.”

“You have to send all these out?There’s like a million of them,” Mini-Stiles said.

“Which is why the work goes faster with help,” Shawn winked.“We don’t have to get them all done today, but since everyone at the table is free it’ll help me make a dent.”

Stiles regarded the invitations with sour disdain.Something nasty in his head imagined setting the stacks on fire.Stiles was an asshole, but, he bit back a sigh, not that big of an asshole.

Shawn set them up as an assembly line to start.He stuffed the envelopes, Stiles sealed them with the glue, and Mini-Stiles carefully put a stamp in the upper right hand corner.

Dad was out meeting with a dangerous hunter and Stiles was sealing goddamn wedding invitations.

Mini-Stiles didn’t have the concentration to keep at it for longer than thirty minutes, so he was up and down from his seat, off to play video games for a while, and then wandering back in to do a few more.

Stiles didn’t have that luxury.He could have left the table but it would only have been to pace a hole in the living room carpet.And Mini-Stiles was already on edge, casting worried glanced at Stiles and chewing his fingernails when he thought no one was looking.

When he was off and occupied with a game, Stiles finally looked up at Shawn and said, “You haven’t asked yet.”

Shawn pushed a stack of envelopes over to him.

“Nope.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Will you just get it over with?Or did Dad already tell you everything?”

Shawn shrugged.“I know some.If you want to tell me about it then I can listen.”

Stiles clenched his jaw.

“Well, I don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

“Fine.”

“Alright.”

Shawn relaxed back into the kitchen chair and began humming something by Madonna.

Stiles swiped the glue over the inside flap of the enveloped and smashed it down to seal it.Then he flung the glue stick across the kitchen.It hit the cabinet, bounced off, and rolled under the stove.

Shawn dug another glue stick out of the bag and put it in front of him without a word.

Stiles growled and pushed away from the table.He tugged at his hair and began to pace.

“Dad shouldn’t be out there alone!” Stiles hissed. 

“He has backup.”

“Unless he called your mom to send a battalion of wolves no, he doesn’t have enough.”

“I think a battalion converging on a hotel might make the neighbors a little nervous,” Shawn said, continuing to stuff envelopes.

“This isn’t a fucking joke!He doesn’t know what they can do, not really.He shouldn’t be there and he couldn’t even leave me sufficiently armed in case they retaliate—“

An empty envelope whizzed through the air and clipped Stiles’s ear.

“What the fuck, Shawn?!”Stiles rubbed at his stinging ear.He managed to duck the next envelope.The third hit his chest and Stiles sputtered.“Stop it!”

“Drop the hysterics, then.”

Stiles’s jaw dropped.“Hysterics?!”

Shawn raised his eyebrows, infuriatingly calm in the face of his sheriff being in potential life threatening danger.

“You’re letting yourself spiral.It’s not doing you one bit of good.”

“No shit, because my father is walking into a death trap!”

“Your father is a highly trained law enforcement officer,” Shawn said, finally raising his voice.“He’s not a blind civilian.And he’s not stupid.”

Stiles bristled.“I never said he was!”

“Then stop acting like he can’t do for himself unless you’re there to hold his hand through it.He’s more than capable of doing his job without a teenager treating him like an infant.”

Stiles shrank into himself, no more shocked than if Shawn had smacked him.To Stiles’s horror, his jaw trembled and his vision went blurry.He ducked away from Shawn and sank back into his chair.Stiles pressed a palm to his mouth but a sob tore out of him anyway.Then another one.

Shawn pulled his chair around and dropped a hand on Stiles’s back, rubbing it in circular motions.Stiles hung his head and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“You’re okay, kid, I’ve got you.”

“I can’t lose him,” Stiles said.“Not again, not like that.”

The mere thought of going through that again broke him out into a cold sweat.His hands shook and his breath came in quick bursts. 

Shawn gripped the back of his neck.

“He’s going to be fine, Stiles.Listen to me, okay?He will be fine.You need to slow down and focus.Just focus on me.”

Shawn wasn’t as adept as Dad at bringing Stiles out of a panic attack, but he did well enough.Stiles’s chest was still tight and sore and he rubbed at his sternum.

“There.With me?”

Stiles nodded.He startled when someone bumped his shoulder.Mini-Stiles was there and biting his lip.Stiles reached over and put an arm around him.Mini-Stiles leaned into him.

“Did John ever tell you about the time he had to tackle a naked guy streaking through the mall?”

Stiles blinked, thrown.

“What?”

“No, he didn’t,” Mini-Stiles said.Despite his own worry he looked like Christmas had come early.

Shawn beckoned them back to he table and they set up the assembly line again.

“Well, the first thing you have to know is that it was Barry Puckett and it wasn’t the first time he decided to go _au naturale_ in the name of personal liberty...”

~

They ended up back at Rafe’s hotel room, a tense and uneasy silence between them.Rafe let John in and turned on the lights.He had spread out and made the hotel room home and office with the intent to stay for a while.John wandered over to the crime wall as Rafe dug out a briefcase from the closet where his clothes were all hung up.

“I was working a cartel case that took me down to the border last year on a task force.Nasty stuff, lot of violence and retaliation going on in the region on both sides.I ended up in a firefight outside one of the cartel’s hand off points.Gary showed up slinging magic.”

Rafe pulled a couple of pictures from the brief case.They were surveillance photos and John’s knees went a little weak.Gary sat astride a motorcycle wearing a biker cut vest emblazoned with _BITTER ROOT JACKALS_ across the back of his shoulders, a styled severed jackal’s head stitched below it.Several other pictures showed him with other members around a fancy country villa, armed to the teeth.

He looked rough.Rougher than John had ever seen him.Tattoos, half gang symbols half magic, scrawled over his arms, neck, and the side of his face.His hair was buzzed down and several thick scars stood out against his throat.They were the same as what Stiles had on his side from the omega.

“He’s part of the Jackals’ inner circle now,” Rafe said.“They call him the reaper, or _el segador_.”

“Well that’s pretentious as hell.”

Rafe made a face in agreement.Something in John’s chest twisted as he handed the pictures back.

“I haven’t seen Gary since…Well, before Mischief was born, for sure.You know how we ended things.”

John had driven himself back to town after the disastrous intervention at the cabin ended with his arm broken in three places.Rafe had been at the hospital having dinner with Melissa when John walked in and promptly passed out in the lobby.Not his finest moment.

“Did you know he was into witchcraft?”

John scoffed.“Gary was into anything he could drink, snort, or shoot up his arm.Never anything like this.Not back then.I didn’t even find out about magic as something real until last year.”

“And Jimmy?”

John shook his head.“He’s never met Gary and he holds no love or loyalty for him.I can guarantee that.What’s more, he is not a threat to Scott or to Melissa.In fact, you ought to make time to thank him.”

Rafe’s nose flared.“Why would I do that?”

“He saved your son’s life in December from a feral omega.Nearly died in the process going up against it with nothing but a little magic and a knife.”

Rafe was stunned into silence by that, staring at John like he wasn’t quite sure what to think.“I believe you,” he said, the admission reluctant. 

“Don’t strain yourself.”

A muscle in Rafe’s jaw jumped.He seemed to be wrestling with something and came to a decision.He moved to the murder wall and rapped his knuckles against a crude, hand-drawn map surrounded by notes in both Spanish and English.

“During that firefight I got separated from my team.Something attacked me.”

Rafe paused and worked his jaw again.His hand drifted to his side before he dropped it and cleared his throat.

“It dragged me off into the desert.When I woke up I was in some kind of hidden camp.People walked around with claws and fangs.They were guarding a large shipment of drugs, getting ready to transport them across the border.I was bleeding pretty heavy and a little disoriented but I knew I wasn’t hallucinating.Even though I wished I was.”

For a moment, Rafe’s carefully constructed mask few and John’s heart felt for him.Rafe and his staunch belief in reality, science, and fact had been shaken to the core, even now months after the fact.His entire world was turned upside down and he was still trying to find his way to solid ground.

John could relate.

“Gary was there.I know he recognized me.The way he smirked when he caught me staring…I never liked him, even before he left for good, and he’s never cared for me but the look in his eyes was the coldest kind of void I’ve ever seen on a person.I overheard him talking with some of the… _werewolves_ ,” he spat the word like it was sour on his tongue.“All those torn up bodies we’d been following, we thought the cartels had fighting dogs they used on their victims.But it was the werewolves.They tore people apart like animals and left them on doorsteps as a message.I saw…They made me watch as they did it to the informant who’d been helping us.”

John closed his eyes with a grimace and reached out.He gripped Rafe’s shoulder.

“I was there for three days.I figured they would go ahead and kill me but they just waited.Then, on the third night I…The moon, it—“

Oh. _Oh._

“You turned.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair and let out a bitter laugh. 

“I thought they’d shot me up with whatever they were shipping.I lost time.When I woke up I was—Everyone had left and there were bodies around me and my hands were drenched clear to my elbows.Then Gary was there, he’d been waiting for me to wake up.”

A selfish part of John didn’t want to hear any more.He didn’t want to know what his older brother had become, didn’t want any of this to be possible.But his gut told him that it was real and true, everything Rafe was saying.So, as hard as it was, he listened.

“He said my life was his parting gift, for old time’s sake.Wished me luck with the moon madness and gave me this mock salute before he got on his bike and left.I managed to walk out, find my team, but I couldn’t tell them what really happened.I didn’t even know if it was real.Not until the next full moon.”

Rafe turned to John and held up his hand.Claws replaced his fingernails and then were gone just as fast.

“How did you learn control?”

“An alpha in San Francisco.She found me the next month.I’d gone out of the city and into the woods, tried to isolate myself when I felt the changes coming on.She helped me through it, taught me to keep a handle on it.Gave me a crash course in being a mythical creature.God, if there were ever a good reason to go back to drinking it would be this, but apparently I can’t even get drunk anymore.”

Rafe’s eyes traveled along the wall of evidence.He held himself together pretty well, considering.But now John could see the carefully concealed cracks, the fault lines threatening to tear open.Rafe wasn’t just trusting John with his new identity, he was trusting John with his career, his reputation, and his future as an FBI agent by bringing him in to the mountain of evidence that could be used to ruin him if it got out. 

More than that, he was trusting him with stark knowledge of his biggest failure as a father.

“That’s why you stopped coming to see Scott for your weekends.”

“I couldn’t hurt him again, John.Couldn’t risk losing control.It was bad enough what I did, I’d never forgive myself if I…Yesterday was the first time I’d seen him since before I turned.”Rafe took a moment to calm himself.Cleared his throat, clenched his hands.“What I did when I was drunk was monstrous, even if it was an accident.Now I’m an actual monster and I—I almost didn’t come back at all.”

“Just because you turn wolfy now doesn’t make you a monster, Rafe.It’s what you choose to do with it, same as how you choose to use your badge.And no matter how hard this is on you, it’s just as hard on your son because he doesn’t know why his dad suddenly started forgetting about him.”

“I didn’t forget about him,” Rafe growled.

“He’s nine years old and his dad, his hero, left and didn’t come back for him.And kept saying he would and never showed up.He just wants you, Rafe.You’re in control now, right?”

Rafe clenched his jaw and nodded.

“Then you don’t have any excuse not to be here for him from now on.Tell him and Melissa what happened.Let them know why you’re struggling so it’s not a question mark that twists up inside them for the rest of their lives.Besides, you grow fangs and claws.Your cool factor in his eyes will go up by a thousand percent.”

That surprised a laugh out of Rafe.Some of the lines in his face softened out.

“You think?”

“I guarantee it.”John nodded to the wall.“Now tell me what else is going on here.”

“Well, the alpha put me in touch with some other people in the , uh, community.I’ve been learning about witches, how they operate, how to trap them.I’ve been warned off from the hunters but I found a few who were willing to work with me to take down someone like Gary.I have to do all this off book, though.I’m off the task force pending the conclusion of my psych eval.”

“He can’t turn you back human, Rafe,” John said as gentle as he could.“The change is permanent.”

“I know that,” Rafe snapped, his eyes flashing gold.He took a deep breath and let it out.“ I know.But he’s the lynchpin keeping this cartel untouchable.He’s not a garden variety witch, he’s into deep and dark crap from what I can surmise.With his protection, they can do what they did to me to others.They’ll keep terrorizing and killing.But if I can remove him from the equation then the hunters I’m talking with can take out the pack and my task force is free to take down the human elements.”

Rafe gave John an apologetic look.

“That’s why I was less than friendly with Jimmy.I went to see Scott after he got out of school last Friday.But before I could even work up the courage to get out of the car I was magically compelled to leave.The urge was so strong I made it all the way back to San Francisco and couldn’t remember to leave again until two days later.It scared me.I thought Gary had gotten to my family.At the park, I wondered if Gary had sent Jimmy, to toy with me, to keep Scott hostage in some way.But…”Rafe shook his head.“His scent didn’t support the theory.”

“His scent?”

Rafe made a face, partly embarrassed, partly frustrated.

“I’m not an expert, but Gary had a rotten smell about him when he used magic.Jimmy didn’t.He just smelled scared and I’m sorry about that.I’d still like to know why he compelled me away, though.”

John blew out a breath.“I’ll talk with him but I’m sure I have an idea.It’s been a really rough year, more than likely his hyper vigilance got the better of him.He’s protective over the boys, both of them.”

John turned back to the wall and examined the pieces of information tacked up.Rafe had mapped out distribution lines and suppliers starting from Mexico and stretching out into the states in red lines that spread across the map like an infection.He followed a particular line that led to Beacon Hills.Marcus Delmonico’s name popped out in black ink, connected to it were a few news reports and the only grainy picture of the Shadow in existence.

Crap.

“Why are you looking into this?”

“Well, this vigilante you had for a while, he was working his way back through the ring connected to the cartel for a while.I know he’s since dropped off the map but I thought if I could find him or his sources, maybe I could follow the chain, find an in back to Gary.All these other points, I don’t have working knowledge of the area and I stick out like a sore thumb as an outsider.”

John weighed the options before him.On the one hand, Rafe wasn’t after Stiles in the capacity they’d feared.That was good.On the other, Rafe was about to trip headlong into a veritable minefield despite how thorough and careful he was being.And then there was Gary.

Damn it, Gary.

John took in the murder wall before him as well as many of the missing pieces Rafe didn’t have yet.He saw how the two intersected and could branch off into quite a few unsavory and alarming consequences.None of them left his family untouched or unscathed in some way.

Rafe’s face fell the longer John was silent.

“Please don’t tell me he’s dead or something.”

“Oh, he’s very much alive.”

Rafe perked back up and tilted his head.John manfully reined in the dog joke that leapt to mind.“You know where he’s at?”

John waffled for a moment on what to say and how much, but, in the end it wasn’t so much clear as it was the lesser of two evils.

“At the moment?He’s at home where I left him this morning, probably still freaking out about you.”

~

Shawn was in the middle of telling another embarrassing story about Dad involving a pineapple, a very sick cat, and a little old lady who was so drunk she’d thought Dad was President Kennedy and wanted to dance with him.

As far as distraction tactics, it was a pretty good one and Shawn was a hell of a storyteller.Stiles would appreciate it more later, and he’d definitely file those stories away to tease Dad about, but only from a distance. 

Because there would be a later.There had to be a later not filled with death or dismay.Because Dad would be fine.He would come home and they’d have supper and Stiles would push that yawning pit back down where it belonged because everything would be fine.

Shawn had just gotten to the part where the old lady had thrown her thong across the room at Dad— because old apparently didn’t mean boring, _holy hell_ , he needed brain bleach— when Stiles went rigid in his seat and his breath hitched.

“Kid?”

Stiles, wide-eyed, said, “Dad’s here.”

His chair clattered back and Stiles sprinted for the door, Mini-Stiles and Shawn on his heels.He wrenched the front door open and there Dad stood.Whole and breathing and alive, blinking with his hand extended towards the door to open it.

Rafael McCall loomed behind him.

Stiles recoiled back into Shawn’s chest.Shawn kept him upright with a hand on his back.McCall, in a first, grimaced and actually appeared apologetic.

“Everything’s okay, kiddo,” Dad said with a tired smile.He pulled Stiles into a hug and dropped a kiss on his forehead.“It’s not what you were thinking.”

Dad ruffled Mini-Stiles’s hair and hugged him, too, then herded everyone away from the door so McCall could come in.Stiles was too shocked to say anything, part of him about to enter fight or flight mode, the other part reminding him that the wards hadn’t detected danger from the man because he was still standing there.McCall stepped over the threshold and, even slouching as he was trying to do, he still took up a large amount of intimidating space. 

He was dressed down in jeans and a jacket, though, instead of his usual suit.Stiles’s eyes flicked down and saw he wasn’t armed, not with a gun or those horrible handcuffs.

“I’m sorry for any panic I caused you yesterday.I, uh.I can explain if you’ll let me, but I can assure you that I don’t mean you or your family any harm.”

McCall regarded him with a solemn expression and held out his hand.

Stiles’s heart was still rocketing round his chest but he looked to Dad and Dad nodded.Stiles swallowed and turned back to McCall.It took a monumental effort to shake his hand.It was probably the hardest thing to do after spending a night and a day worried out of his mind McCall would come barging in and take away everything Stiles loved.

Then his other senses caught the pinging from the house wards and he froze, hand still gripped in McCall’s.

“You’re a _werewolf?!_ ”

Everyone but Dad did a double take.Dad just grinned, proud, and said, “You owe me ten bucks, I said he’d make you before you hit the kitchen.”

“Are you serious?” Shawn asked.

Mini-Stiles exploded, “Since when?!”

“What is even going on right now,” Stiles muttered.He did a nervous count of his fingers.Still only ten.Somehow that did not make him feel better.

“This is going to be a sit down conversation, guys.Why don’t we take it to the kitchen, get some coffee, and we’ll hash it out,” Dad said, his tone booked no arguments.

As everyone shuffled through the living room Dad snagged Stiles’s arm and said, “Come here for a minute.”

They went to his office and Dad closed the door.As soon as he turned around Stiles barreled into him and buried his face in his jacket.Dad stumbled back a little but he wrapped Stiles up and Stiles finally, finally, took a full, deep breath.

“It’s okay, kiddo.”

Stiles shuddered and tried to pull himself together but all he could do was shake his head and hang on while all the built up terror and anxiety crashed inside him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said when he finally found his voice. 

Dad ran his thumb back and forth beneath the ridge of Stiles’s skull.“I know.”

“I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have said those things to you.I—“

Dad hushed him and rested his chin on top of Stiles’s head.When Stiles finally convinced himself that it was okay to pull away, that Dad was solid and wouldn’t disappear, he huffed out a laugh and said, “A fucking werewolf, really?”

“It’s a recent development.”

Stiles sniffled and scrubbed at his face.He honestly had trouble imagining McCall as a werewolf.Not like he needed the added claws or fangs to be scary.Stiles wasn’t sure to be glad or not that the McCall of his world had remained human.There were two different ways that could have gone and both of them would have made a lot of trouble.

Not to mention a lot of awkward.

“Hey.”Dad bumped his chin up with his knuckle.“I know you have baggage about Rafe but I need to ask that you to set it aside for now.I’m going to let him lay everything out there for you in detail but I need you to know that I’ve already heard it and I’m giving him my support.I’m hoping you will, too, once you hear him out.”

So many thoughts and emotions ripped through Stiles’s head he could barely catch them, but Dad waited, his thumbs making circular motions on Stiles’s shoulders, grounding him.

“I’ll listen,” Stiles said.Dad smiled and Stiles added, “I trust you.”

Dad engulfed him in another hug and murmured, “Thank you.”

There was still some bitter hot resentment in his gut over the knife but, for the moment, Stiles pushed that down and just let himself be happy and thankful that Dad came back so they could have that argument again at a later time. 

When they entered the kitchen Shawn had set a new pot of coffee to going and had given Mini-Stiles some orange juice.They were all sitting around the table in an awkward and stilted conversation.Shawn was neutral, which made sense, but Mini-Stiles had his arms crossed and was glaring something fierce at McCall across the table.

Mini-Stiles jumped out of his seat and managed to kick McCall under the table.

“Oops,” he said, anything but apologetic as McCall grimaced and rubbed his shin.Mini-Stiles tugged at Stiles and directed him to sit in the chair he’d dragged as far away from McCall as he could get without leaving the table.

Stiles dropped a hand on his head and bit down a flash of amusement.The display of protectiveness warmed something inside him.

Dad gave Mini-Stiles a warning look.Mini-Stiles blinked back at him, falling just short of innocent, and leaned purposefully into Stiles’s side, crossing his arms again.

McCall cleared his throat and glanced at Dad, who settled into a chair on the other side of Stiles.

“Okay, so, before we start, I’ve brought Rafe in on the time travel situation.”Mini-Stiles made an incredulous noise and Dad raised a hand.“Quiet, Mischief.He doesn’t have all the details, just a general overview, and yes, he needed to know.Also, I shouldn’t have to say this but I will.Nothing we discuss leaves this table from you two,” he said to Stiles and his younger self.Dad nodded at Shawn.“Rafe will go with you later to meet with Talia.But for right now, Stiles needs to hear what he’s going to say first.”

Stiles’s anxiety up-ticked and Rafe’s eyes cut to him, glancing down at his chest and back up.Unlike certain teenaged werewolves Stiles had once known, he didn’t advertise what he’d heard or ask about it, but Stiles sighed anyway.His face continued to go through a series of minute expressions as he focused on Stiles.

“I know you’re getting a lot of chemo-signals off me, just ignore them, please,” he muttered.

McCall, for a wonder, simply nodded.

“When you’re ready,” Dad told McCall.

McCall took a moment to gather his thoughts and then launched into a strange and frightening story of drug cartels, outlaw wolves and witches, and a bloodbath in the Mexican desert that took his humanity and forced lycanthropy on him.

Stiles listened half in awe, half in horror, as McCall laid out being a reluctant werewolf, fighting to learn control, and distancing himself from Scott and Melissa to keep the safe until he was sure he wouldn’t hurt them again.Then he detailed his plan to hunt down Gary Stilinski despite the fact he wasn’t officially part of the task force anymore.

“And I need your help with that,” he told Stiles, twisting a mug of coffee between his hands. 

Stiles glanced around the table.“Well, I don’t know what I could do,” he said, truthful.“You know Gary isn’t really my dad.I never even met him in my world.I wouldn’t know the first thing about tracking him down.”

“From what I understand, you had some good success working your way up the ring when you were the Shadow.”

“I’m not supposed to do that stuff anymore.”

His face warmed with embarrassment because big, bad, _werewolf_ Agent McCall was asking for his expertise as a former vigilante on a case.An actual case.And Stiles went and blurted out something so stupid and juvenile.

And he’d totally missed the best chance to say something cool, like, _I’m retired_.

“Stiles.”Dad waited until Stiles met his gaze.“If you’re willing, I will make an allowance this time.Limited capacity and tenure, of course.You’d just be consulting with him on the evidence he’s gathered, not helping him in the field.”

It was official.Stiles was tripping out and didn’t even have the luxury of being high to accomplish it.

But he looked away from Dad, back to McCall, and thought about everything he’d just heard.And he thought about Scott.His Scott, how he’d been just after Peter bit him.Stiles could see a lot of post-bite Scott in his father.The disdain and anger, the drive to get back at who did it, the grief and loss of normality.

Somewhere, Stiles felt his Scott was looking at him with a knowing, hopeful smile.Stiles always thought it would be a cold day in hell before he ever felt sorry for Scott’s dad about anything, much less be compelled to help him.

 _Never say never, bro_ , he heard Scott whisper.

“I’ll do it,” Stiles found himself saying. 

Dad and Shawn began talking but Stiles tuned them out.He gazed across the table at McCall who inclined his head with a nod of thanks and respect, something he never would have dreamed of receiving from the man who, in Stiles’s world, had usually looked at him as the root of all Scott’s problems.

Apparently, it was a day for impossible things. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy plot twist, Batman! Even I didn’t see some of this chapter coming until I wrote it.
> 
> Also, thank you lovely people who left comments this past week. I haven’t had the brain power to reply but know that I re-read every one of them, squeed, and used them as fuel to churn out this next part. I’m so happy you guys are liking this little story, your comments always make my day. ❤️


	6. Rooftop Brooding Sessions and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was not rooftop brooding. He was just thinking. Studying the angles. Trying to see where he might fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went on FOREVER. hope you enjoy it! ❤️

Stiles ran his fingers over the murder wall in McCall’s room with awe.It was so much more detailed than anything Stiles had put together, either in this world or the last one.He followed the Beacon Hills distribution line and found that McCall had put together almost all of the connections Stiles had uncovered.

“You did good work.”

“Thanks, kid,” McCal said with a dry drawl.“That wasn’t at all patronizing.”

Dad made a choked off noise.“Something in my throat,” he said with a wave.

Stiles went over some of the notes, and snagged a marker off the dresser.

“This is wrong, though.”

He crossed out a part where McCall had written about a possible drug connection out of a house on Windy Drive.“This was where one of Marcus’s minions lived, but he was just a kid living with his grandmother.He didn’t have any higher connections in the ring.Now, this is probably where you want to focus.”He jotted down an address and marked it on the Beacon Hills map hanging up nearby.

Stiles fell right into investigation mode, all the details coming back to him even though it had been months since he’d even seen the pieces of his own crime board.His mind narrowed down to facts and dates and names and addresses, squeezing out everything else.

“Huh.”

Stiles finally looked up.He’d pretty much taken over and scrawled his way over all of McCall’s notes and observations.It had been nearly an hour since he’d stared.

Dad sat back in the chair at the little table, amused and thoughtful.

“How the hell did you have time to put all this together?” McCall asked.

Stiles shrugged.“ADHD, no one to answer to, no social obligations, and all the time in the world.”

“And a lingering obsession with Batman,” Dad supplied.

“Hey, I never did the whole brooding on rooftops thing, okay?And the name was not my idea, I was never consulted.I would have chosen something cooler.”

Dad snorted and McCall chuckled.

“Like what?”

Stiles tossed a perturbed look over his shoulder.

“I don’t know, but it would have been better than _the Shadow_.”

Stiles tapped the marker on his chin and turned back to the wall.He wrote down some more names and nicknames he’d encountered but never had time to run down, thanks to Dad and Shawn’s intervention, and then backtracked the distribution line to the center mass in Mexico.

McCall had a bunch of information about the cartel laid out but not much on Gary, at least when compared to everything else.Stiles hovered over a post-it note with a crude drawing on it.He peeled it off.

“You recognize that?” McCall asked.

Stiles didn’t answer for a moment.His heart must have done something because McCall nudged Stiles, concerned.

“I’ve seen it before.I think.”

Something twisted in Stiles’s gut and he handed the post-it back to McCall, eager to get it out of his hands.Weird.Usually he had good memory recall.He’d definitely seen it somewhere but all he came up with was an feeling of deep unease.

He kept that to himself, though.McCall wanted concrete stuff right now.

“This was carved into several bodies we found in the desert.Strangest thing about them was that they appeared to be mummified.”

Stiles shook his head.“I don’t know.Maybe there’s something about it in one of my books.”

“Books?”

“Yeah.I tried to collect the ones I had before.I’ve only managed to get a fraction of them, though.But there might be something in one of them.”

“Would you mind writing down some of the titles that would be helpful for this?Maybe I could get some copies when I get back to San Francisco.”

Stiles snorted.“You’ll need to make some friends who can translate other languages, then, like Archaic Latin.”

McCall paused.“Are you serious?”

“Belief in the supernatural isn’t widespread like it was centuries ago, you know.That’s when people wrote about this stuff with absolute seriousness.Of course, not everything they put down was accurate so there’s still a lot of guesstimating that goes into it, but it gets you pretty damn close, which is the next best thing unless you have a hunter family’s records.Which I miss having access to,” Stiles muttered the last sentence. 

Getting another copy of the Argent bestiary was a pipe dream at the moment. 

“I thought you weren’t on good terms with any hunters?” McCall said carefully.

“I only ever met two good ones that I ended up calling friends.But it was still a fight to get them to let go of their ingrained hate towards the supernatural.They turned against their entire family to do it, too.”

Stiles took a measured breath around the thought of Chris and Allison.He’d always feel guilty over Allison, and miss her as a friend.Chris was more of a surprise.He’d become so dependable and just there as time had gone on.He’d even left Isaac in France to come back to Beacon Hills and help them, sticking around when things got serious between him and Melissa.

Stiles shook the memories away.He returned his attention to the wall.That’s what he needed to focus on right now.

The rest of the information about Gary was sparse.Stiles studied one of the pictures McCall had hanging up.He could see a bit of family resemblance in the face and the eyes, but beyond that the man was an alien stranger.Stiles took the close-ups of Gary down and went to the table where Dad was sitting.He snagged McCall’s notepad and traced out the tattoos he knew were related to magic.

Some of the tattoos he recognized, though they were more elaborate than anything Stiles had ever seen.Another thing they were was overboard.Like, hardcore paranoia overboard.Stiles labeled the ones he could pin down with bits of info about what they meant, what they were for.McCall peered over his shoulder until Stiles finished and handed him the notepad.McCall mouthed out some of the names of the tattoos and frowned over the short explanations.

“This is going way over my head,” he admitted.

“You’ll need to talk with an emissary for better information, but that’s what I can interpret from the pictures.It looks like he’s actually the emissary for the wolves working with the cartel.Means he’s at the top of the pack, ranked under the alpha but equal with the second.”

“What does an emissary even do?”

Stiles opened his mouth.Closed it. 

“Okay, at the risk of sounding like a moron, I can’t really tell you.I’ve only met three and...Deaton pretty much kept to a distant advisory-sort of position for Scott and he was never that forthcoming about much, but he was pretty much our only option.Until he disappeared, got possessed, and fucked me over by giving me to the hunters.”

Stiles kept his head down and studied the pictures of Gary instead of looking at Dad and McCall.It was a bit easier to say these things without taking in their expressions. 

“Ms. Morell was Deaton’s sister and she emissaried for the alpha pack that came through and tried to kill us all.She was all about ‘maintaining the balance’ and sort of tried to stay out of things, but not really?After the alpha pack was done she...Well, I got possessed by something and she gave me drugs to stay awake so I’d stay in control.She was also down to kill me if that failed, though.Keeping the balance.”

Stiles ignored the outraged noise from Dad.

“The third was a dark Druid connected to one of the alphas in the alpha pack.She sacrificed a bunch of people to get enough power to take the leader of the alpha’s down.And also woke the thing that possessed me.So, given the context, I don’t actually have a good baseline of what a normal emissary is supposed to do.But, within my experience, Gary seems to fit right in with the bloodshed and batshit crazy end of the spectrum.”

“So you were never your pack’s emissary, then?” McCall asked after a few, awkward moments of silence.

“No, I was my alpha’s second.”

“Who was your alpha?”

Stiles paused,

“Scott,” Stiles whispered.He cleared his throat.“Scott was my alpha.”

Stiles wasn’t surprised when McCall put a hand on his shoulder.

“Scott was bitten?”

Apparently Dad had given him extremely bare minimum information.Stiles nodded and fought his instinct to duck his head so he wouldn’t have to look McCall in the eyes.He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair.

“Yeah, that was on me.I dragged him out of bed one night when I was fifteen.There was a dead body in the woods and I convinced him to come and help me find it.He was bitten by a rogue alpha that night.And, uh, just before he turned seventeen he became an alpha himself.”

Stiles couldn’t read the myriad of expressions flickering across McCall’s face.McCall finally settled on shocked.

“What—“ McCall cleared his throat.“What was he like?”

Stiles had expected that question to come at some point.He wasn’t quite prepared at that moment.As he thought about what to say it wasn’t any of the dire, werewolf-connected crap that had mucked up the last few years that came to mind first.

“He hated cherries,” Stiles said, testing the words out as they came on their own.“Even if they were in a pie he said they tasted like cough syrup.But he never said anything to Mrs. McNamara.She used to babysit him for Melissa when she worked nights and she made cherry pie because it had been her husband’s favorite.Scott always ate it because he couldn’t stand to say anything that might hurt her feelings.”

The entire room was quiet.McCall seemed to be holding his breath.

“Before the bite he decided he wanted to be first string in lacrosse, even though his asthma messed with him.When tryouts came along I went, too.I was too clumsy back back then, growth spurts and all, but we both made the team even if all we did was sit on the bench.”

Stiles paused.There was so much of Scott in his head.So many tiny things that Stiles had noticed and filed away over the years because they were friends, because he’d always been observant.Stiles closed his eyes.If he delved to deep into them he would drown. 

Today was not a day he wanted to do that.

“He didn’t—Scott didn’t handle the change well at first.We had to figure everything out on our own, made a lot of stupid mistakes.He had a strong, sometimes unbending set of morals.It was the one thing he could control in absolute.It made him hard to live with sometimes, he didn’t always…He tried really hard to make good decisions, to do what he thought was right even when there weren’t any good options.”

Stiles tried to smile.It probably came off more as a pained grimace, though. 

“The you in my world was proud of him, about who he became.After he stopped yelling about everything we’d kept a secret, of course.”

McCall swallowed a couple of times and looked as if he wanted to say something.But Stiles couldn’t face that, so he rose to his feet and went back to the wall. 

Dad’s cell phone rang.He rose from the chair and took it, speaking low.McCall joined Stiles back at the wall.For a moment they just stood there in front of the evidence and connections sprawling before them.

“He learned to be okay with being a werewolf eventually, then?”

Stiles gave a nod.“Eventually.He got pretty good at it.”

Stiles looked to Dad, who was still wrapped up in his phone call.There was something more pressing up against Stiles’s throat, and Scott was there.Stiles could feel him as if he were standing just off to the side.If Stiles glanced that way he was more than half sure he’d see the outline of him.But he didn’t need to do that.He could feel Scott’s hope just hanging there.An unasked question. 

Stiles sighed.Damn it, Scott.

“Can I give you some advice?” he asked with reluctance.

McCall turned his head towards Stiles.

“Look, I…Never warmed up to you much in my world, not for a long while.I knew what happened with Scott that made his dad choose to leave.”

McCall stiffened.

“And when he came back into the picture he tried to get my dad fired.So, I’m still hanging onto some things.But you—he—also saved my life once.”

“From what?”

“Who,” Stiles corrected.“Professional assassins were in town hunting supernaturals listed on a dead pool, most all of my friends, too, with Scott at the top.I got in the way.Scott’s Dad, uh, shot the assassin who had a gun to my head and— honestly, I’m really tired of how often guns get shoved in my face,” Stiles muttered.McCall opened his mouth, alarmed, but Stiles barreled on.“So it’s complicated for me.All of this with you, but—advice.Don’t lone wolf this shit.”

Stiles made a few last notations on the wall.

“I’m probably the biggest hypocrite for saying that, given why you even want me to consult in the first place, but I thought I had to be alone.Scott felt like that after he got bit. He was lucky that he ended up creating a pack eventually.Even though it…ended the way it did.We both saw how it could go for those who went it on their own.They died alone.Scared.And we were lucky to find the bodies.”

Stiles tucked his arms around himself.

“Join a pack.If you’re anything like Scott was, the idea of having to have an alpha probably rankles a lot.I always got the impression you don’t like people telling you what to do.”

McCall huffed around a reluctant smile.

“You’re life is never going back to the way it was.That’s the hardest thing to accept.But having an alpha isn’t the worst thing in the world.A good one doesn’t lord authority over you or try to control you.”

Stiles tried to choose his next words carefully. 

“I think you should approach Talia Hale.She’s doing a good job of keeping this place in balance.They’re a good pack.Hell, they extended protection over me and I haven’t even met them all yet, but Talia helped my Dad anyway.She made it possible for him to bring me home.From everything I’ve seen and heard she’s fair and she cares about the people in her pack.”

“High praise,” McCall said, casting Stiles a questioning glance.

“Well, they’ve done a lot for me.In my world and this one.And Scott needs you, so you can’t be dumb about this.Not the way we were.”Stiles pulled a photograph down.A body wrapped in a bloody shroud was on a porch.It reminded him of Erica.

“Well, we need to cut this short,” Dad said, coming back over to them, eyes flicking from McCall to Stiles and back.“That was dispatch.There’s a multi-car pileup on the 515, they need all hands.I have to call Shawn in and head that way.”

“Sure.Thank you for everything today.I have a lot of new information to sift through.A lot to think about.”

Dad and McCall shook hands.When he turned to Stiles it was easier to do the second time.There was a look of understanding that passed between Stiles and McCall.Another impossible thing Stiles never expected.He wasn’t at all sure what to do about it.Or what to think of it.So he did neither at that moment.

Dad’s hand settled on Stiles’s back as they walked to the cruiser. 

“That took a lot of courage, kiddo.I’m proud of you.”

“I did it for Scott.”

“Scott would be proud of you, too.And grateful.”

Stiles blinked up at the sky and hoped so.

~

Dad brought him back to the house and then, after a brief explanation, took Shawn with him to help out with the accident.Then it was just Stiles and his younger self as night came on. 

The house felt almost unbearable large and empty after the day they’d had.His panic and his breakdown and the wedding invitations, they all seemed as if they’d happened a lifetime ago. 

Stiles rolled up his sleeves and started work on making dinner.There would be no telling when Dad would be home.It could be a few hours or not until the next morning.So Stiles put a casserole together on autopilot and set it in the oven. 

Mini-Stiles had yet to say anything since he came home.He’d done nothing but glower and purse his lips the entire time.Stiles let him.He’d speak when he was ready and Stiles needed time to just be.Not to even think.He’d done way too much thinking and remembering and, at least in that moment, his mind was in a place somewhere between.

When Stiles set the egg timer and sat down on the couch Mini-Stiles finally plopped down with a growl.

“He hurt Scott.”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Okay, so why did you help him, huh?It’s not like he deserved it.”

Stiles shrugged.

“Maybe not.But Scott does.”

Mini-Stiles cut him a sharp look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.Scott loves him, man.He’s his dad.”

“Yeah, who _hurt him_.”

Stiles nodded.“McCall knows what he did.I think he’s trying to be better.”

Mini-Stiles scoffed.Stiles grabbed the remote and started changing channels.It was a testament to how upset Mini-Stiles was that he didn’t even complain.

“Look, at the end of the day it really doesn’t matter what we think about him.It’s what Scott thinks.”

“Scott forgives everyone too easy!If he remembered what happened he’d forgive him.He’d even forgive Jackson if I said it was okay.”

“I know,” Stiles said.“It’s his dad, though.”

Mini-Stiles let out an aggrieved noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

“That shouldn’t matter.”

Stiles cut him a sharp look.

“You know it does.”

Mini-Stiles sank down in the couch seat and grumbled for the rest of the evening.They ate and watched TV until about nine.Mini-Stiles didn’t even put up a fuss when Stiles turned it off and started doing checks of the doors and windows, which always signaled they were about to go to bed. 

While Mini-Stiles was brushing his teeth, Stiles called Dad.He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t pick pick up, so Stiles called the station.Aaron at the front desk confirmed they were still out helping with the pileup and would be several more hours at least. 

“It’s a bad one,” Aaron said.“There’s at least a couple semis involved.”

Stiles thanked him and hung up.Fingers tapping on the table, Stiles did another check of the house and went upstairs.He was wrung out and exhausted but he wouldn’t be sleeping, he already knew. 

Mini-Stiles went to bed with a grumbled good night, burying himself under his covers and kicking until he got the whole thing arranged to his liking.He was out within the hour. 

Stiles sat at his desk and slowly spun around in the chair.That space between everything was long gone and now he had all the information from the day whizzing around each other like confused birds in his head.McCall and his story of the desert.Stiles’s uncle and the nefarious deeds connected to his name.The drug connections in Beacon Hills and their roots down south.And Scott hovering at the edge of everything.

He had the notebook open and the pen clicked before he really registered it.

_Scott,_

_You told me once we could still be decent people even in the apocalypse.I didn’t believe that.Still don’t.This isn’t the apocalypse here, though.I hope it was decent enough._

_I still don’t like him._

_-S_

~

Stiles went out to consult with McCall a handful of more times.Despite his reservations, Stiles had to admit, even if only to himself, that McCall may have actually been an okay sort of person.At least as far as his job went.

McCall had a perceptive eye for detail and made connections between things nearly as fast as Stiles did.And he was a quick learner.Like Dad, he wasn’t comfortable with the rules and structures of the supernatural but he was trying to pick them up as fast as possible.

Magic, though, was a whole different ball game.

“Physics exist for a reason,” McCall muttered darkly as Stiles helped him deconstruct one of the spell remnants he had managed to photograph and document before he even knew what he was looking at.

“Well, they still exist.Magic exists along side them, we just haven’t been able to quantify them as thoroughly.”

It was the same thing Lydia used to mutter to herself when something they learned or read about seemed to fly in the face of what they had already come to accept.

 _You don’t understand yet but you will._ Stiles shivered as her voice whispered in his ear. _You’re the one who always figures it out._

Stiles gave himself a hard mental shake and focused back on McCall as he said, “That doesn’t really help if I can’t grasp the basics of why it works in the first place.”

Stiles shrugged and handed McCall his notes and leaned back in the chair to stretch out his leg.The nerves were starting to burn a bit.“You’d probably have an easier time if you ever read any comic books or fantasy stories.”

The flat look McCall gave him was one to treasure.

“Look,” Stiles said, taking a bit of mercy.“Magic uses some of the same laws physics does, but there’s a bit more bend in them because of the caster’s intent.”

“They can think or feel something into being?” McCall said, still as unimpressed as the first ten times Stiles tried to explain it.

“Belief is powerful.People use it every day for all kinds of things.”

“Most of their beliefs don’t tend to make other people explode.”

“That’s because belief or intent is only one part of the equation,” Stiles explained again.“Think of it like cooking.Do you do a lot of that?”

“I don’t survive on take out alone, kid.”

“Good to know, that’s not healthy even for a werewolf.Think of spells like cooking a soup.Lots of ingredients make it up, right?But the soup won’t really be a soup worth eating if you leave out the pot to cook it in or the heat to change it from ingredient to meal.Belief and intent are what contain the spell to a shape and an outcome.The physical, geographic, lunar, whatever else it needs are what determines what kind of soup you’re making.”

McCall heaved a sigh and muttered something under his breath.

Dad was doing his level best not to laugh or smile.But the way he’d been hiding the lower half of his face behind his hand for an hour said he found this highly amusing.

By the end of the week, McCall seemed to grasp that explanation a bit better.Or he had worn down enough to accept and roll with it.Either way, he began to get the scope of what he was looking at in a way he hadn’t before, when everything was half unknown, part mess, and thoroughly confusing.

Much to Stiles’s surprise, he was pretty receptive to approaching Naomi, one of the witches Stiles had originally made contact with, to get more insight into what he was dealing with.Stiles would have loved to have sat in on that meeting.He bet Naomi had a field day stretching McCall’s brain out.

The consultations only lasted until the next week.There was only so much Stiles could give him until McCall needed to take it and run down leads for newer information.Stiles tried to hide his disappointment when he and Dad left for the last time.But it was Dad and he noticed.

“Are you going to be okay letting this go?” Dad asked.

“I’m not gonna go behind your back.I’m not breaking my promise again.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It doesn’t matter.It’s not my job anymore.”

That place in the center of his chest tightened up.The rightness he’d felt again, delving into everything, it was slipping away like sand through his fingers.Trying to hold onto it would only make it leave faster and it would only lead him to fuck things up with Dad again.So he had to open his hand and let it leave.

“No, right now it’s not,” Dad agreed.“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.In fact, I’ve seen just how much it does matter to you.And you’re good at it.”Dad studied him for a minute while Stiles ignored his gaze.“You know, it’s only another year before you graduate.If this is a path you want to stay on then, instead of focusing on why you can’t work cases right now, maybe we can focus on getting you prepared to pursue it as a career.”

Dad raised his eyebrows with a shrug, the offer on the table, and let Stiles chew on that as they went back to the house.

~

And Stiles did think about it.All the time.It was the first thing that was in his head the moment he woke up.It was in the back of his mind all day as he went about chores, looking after Mini-Stiles, rough housing with him and Scott, testing his magic and still finding it to be out of sync and the cause of headaches and bloody noses. 

It was the last thing he thought about when he was in bed and trying to go to sleep.And, when that failed, it was what he thought about up on the roof with the summer wind playing in his hair and the night sky twinkling above him.

It was not rooftop brooding.He was just thinking.Studying the angles.Trying to see where he might fit.

He wanted to fit in somewhere.It had felt completely, wonderfully normals for the time he’d helped McCall on his case.Like stepping back into an old skin. 

But there was something missing from it.It left him with a strange, subtle sense of dissatisfaction, like returning to a book he’d read as a child and finding it didn’t quite measure up to how he remembered it.Which was ridiculous.And yet the feeling remained.

His mind kept circling around to something Dad had said.How he phrased it.

_If this is the path you want to stay on._

Of course this was the path he wanted to stay on.Didn’t he?It was everything he’d always wanted from the time he was small.To be just like his Dad.To solve crimes, put puzzles together.Figure out connections.And he was good at it, as Dad had even admitted.Why wouldn’t he want to pursue it?

_If this is the path you want to stay on._

It had always been a given he would one day work for his dad as a deputy.Even McCall’s offer of helping him get into the pre-FBI program hadn’t been much of a jog to the left of his plans so much as a possible enhancement of them. 

But the phrase nagged at him.Was that still his path?Stiles was talented at solving cases.It wasn’t so much pride as just fact.He’d had to get good at it and keep improving with survival on the line.

But he’d also never considered anything else.Did he need to?Would he be satisfied if he continued on with where he’d always been going?

Stiles didn’t know.And he hated having to ask himself that because now it just made him more confused.He’d always figured that was one thing he could rely on until the end of time.

Stiles dug out his phone and opened up the text messages.

_To: derek_

_Do you ever freak out about something you really want and can probably have but your monkey brain is stupid and tries to make you question it?_

Stiles closed the phone.It was after midnight and Derek was probably asleep, so he didn’t actually expect an answer until sometime the next morning.But the phone chirped at him a few minutes later.

_To: stiles_

_Yeah.All the time._

_To: derek_

_Cool.Good to know I’m not the only basket case._

_To: stiles_

_Lol, far from it actually.What’s got your monkey brain freaking out?_

_To: derek_

_Life.The future.Just your usual teenage existenial crisis._

_To: stiles_

_I thought you had that penciled in for fall like everyone else._

_To: derek:_

_I’ve always been an overachiever._

_To: stiles_

_Sounds about right._

Stiles didn’t know what else to say so he left it at that.Derek didn’t text again so Stiles figured he had gone on to sleep.

He went back inside eventually.Only to find a strange lump in his bed under the covers.Stiles lifted them and found his younger self curled up in the middle.Stiles sighed and moved him over.It was a chore.Mini-Stiles didn’t look it, but once he went to sleep he gained about hundred extra pounds and five foot deep roots. 

McCall wanted to complain about the skewed nature of physics when it came to magic, but the real unanswerable mystery of the universe was how Mini-Stiles managed to become an immovable object upon unconsciousness.

He was ninety pounds soaking wet while awake.It just didn’t make sense.

Stiles manages to get enough room freed up to climb in and turn around so he could look out the window at the sky. 

It really wasn’t fair, he thought, to feel like this after getting to have something he’d always wanted, needed, loved.He didn’t understand why. 

Maybe it was just his brain being dumb, like it was prone to do.Maybe something really had changed about working cases for him. 

Or maybe the universe was fucking with him again.

Knowing his luck?All of the above and with no hope of physics having a set of rules to untangle the mess.

~

A text was waiting for him when he woke up the next morning.Not from Derek, but Laura.

_To: stiles_

_Is it okay if we stay over today and tonight?_

_To: laura_

_Shenanigans?_

_To: stiles_

_Need some pack bonding time._

Stiles waited but there was no witty followup or insult or anything normal.Stiles frowned at the phone.

_To: laura_

_Scott’s staying over, too, that okay?_

_To: stiles_

_Yeah, that’s cool._

_Stiles sat up and switched threads._

_To: derek_

_Everything okay with laura?_

_To: stiles_

_She’s fighting with mom._

_To: derek_

_Yikes_

_To: stiles_

_That’s putting it lightly_

Stiles got up and went downstairs.Dad wasn’t there because he was working a double due to a rash of food poisoning thanks to a bad batch of spaghetti from Ralphio’s.It took out half the nightshift in one fail swoop and that restaurant went to the top of the banned list they kept in the break room.

He called Dad as he was setting out things for breakfast.Dad was already tired by the sound of his voice but he okayed the pack night.

“Just don’t break anything, no crazy stunts, either.”

“Damn, there goes my parkour competition idea with the werewolves.”

“Ha ha,” Dad said.“You better not be serious.”

“Please, like Derek would ever let us go through with it.”

Dad sighed.

“Besides, Scott’s gonna be here, too.I figure we’ll do games and movies, just hang out.”

“That would probably be good for both of you,” Dad said. 

Since the end of his consultation period both he and Mini-Stiles had been tetchy.Scott had come over a few days after, starry eyed, and a little weepy. 

“My dad is a _werewolf_ ,” he’d said, so full of awe and dazed wonder. 

Mini-Stiles had done an incredible job of trying to be happy for him and supportive.It probably helped that whenever Stiles saw him begin to crack that he could jump in and distract Scott and his endless questions about werewolves.Now that his father was one, Scott found it important to learn more than claws, fangs, disappearing eyebrows, and the moon is important, not just pretty.

There were a few nights Stiles came back in through his window and heard Mini-Stiles crying quietly in his room.The first time he didn’t know what to do, if he wanted privacy or not.The second time Stiles couldn’t stand it and went in.He’d sat up against the headboard and talked about things he and his Scott had done when they were younger until Mini-Stiles went to sleep.

They never acknowledged it in the morning.But Dad was right, being around friends would probably help them both.Maybe it would help Dad worry a bit less, too.

Melissa dropped Scott off around three and Laura and Derek arrived around a bit later while Stiles was making supper. 

Stiles could definitely see the difference in Laura this time.There was a strain around her eyes to keep up the smiles and laugher.Derek was looking worried and withdrawn.He came to join Stiles in the kitchen while Laura plopped down with the boys and played video games with them.

Stiles raised his eyebrows at Derek, just asking if everything was okay.Derek lifted a shoulder and shook his head.

Scott seemed to be the only one unaware of the tension as evening came on and they settled in with a handful of movies.He was happy and asking questions, poking at Laura and Derek by turns.McCall had taken Stiles’s advice and approached Talia about joining the pack. 

On the one hand, it showed McCall was definitely not stupid and had come around to the smart decision a lot easier than Stiles’s Scott had.On the other, he was now part of the same pack as Stiles, which meant he’d be around a lot more than he ever had been before.

The things he did for Scott.

They took a break between movies for the boys to run around and make snacks.Laura disappeared upstairs to the restroom but never came back down.Derek’s frown pinched in worry.

“She hasn’t been doing well, has she?” Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head.“She’s all over making sure I’m fine but she won’t talk to me about her.She wouldn’t go running with us on the last full moon, either.”

Stiles sipped on his soda and tapped out a rhythm on the couch, thinking.His insides twisted a little but the decision was actually easy to come to.

Stiles handed Derek his soda.“I’m gonna go try.Keep the boys down here.”

Scott and Mini-Stiles were still arguing over what movie to plug in next.Derek put a hand on his arm.

“She’s way more stubborn than you are, Stiles.She won’t talk with Mom at all right now, and they’ve always been close.”

“Well, even if she doesn’t talk to me I know she’ll listen.”

“Why’s that?”

Stiles leveraged himself off the couch.“I’ve been where she’s at.”

Stiles shied away as Derek opened his mouth to say something else. 

Upstairs, Laura wasn’t in any of the rooms but Stiles’s bedroom window was open.Stiles made his way up to the roof and found her in his usual spot.She was stretched out, one arm under her head, the other on her stomach.

Stiles settled in a spot next to her and laid down as well.Above, the sky was clear and stars were winking into view.The air was still warm, summer in full swing. 

“Your scent is all over this roof.It’s like you live up here half the time,” she said.

“That’s not far off the mark.”

“You take up stargazing, finally?”

“It is the best kind of view when you want to think.Or not think.Stars are accommodating that way.”

Laura hummed.“Did Derek put you up to this?”

“Put me up to what?”

“Poke at me until I start talking about everything I feel.He’s been like a leech.Sticks to me everywhere I go, keeps _looking_ at me.”

Stiles bent his knee and rubbed at his thigh.The ache was back and it didn’t like climbing the roof.

“I know that look well.Makes you feel like you need to spill your guts all over the place to make it go away.Dad’s an expert with it.”

Laura let out a frustrated sigh.

“I don’t want to talk!Why is it so hard to understand?”

Stiles shrugged.“He’s worried.You’re usually talking all the time, being general low-level annoyance.Derek is a creature of habit, change fucks up his routine and makes him twitchy.”

Laura laughed and smacked at Stiles.

“I’m not annoying, I’m a gift.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Laura turned to look at him, confused.“This is not our usual script, Stilinski.We have a whole thing that revolves around sarcasm.Not touchy-feely you agreeing with my bullshit.”

Stiles held up his hand, pinky finger extended.

“This is the rooftop sanctuary, Hale.Normal rules don’t apply.”

Laura sighed and hooked her pinky through his.

“I still don’t want to talk.”

“I kinda do.You feel like listening?”

Laura regarded him for a moment, suspicious, then shrugged.“Sure.”

Stiles took a minute to gather himself and stared up at the sky stretched over them. 

“Around this time last year I killed three people who ambushed my pack.”

Laura went completely still.

“We were on the run, my pack.I went with Parrish and my alpha on a scouting run.We had to fix one of our vehicles so the rest of the pack was holed up in the woods working with what little we did have to get it going again.”

Dad hadn’t wanted Stiles to go on that trip.Stiles had insisted.Dad was exhausted, still healing from the their escape from Beacon Hills.Lydia hadn’t been much better, and Derek had been working on the car, trying to fix it from scraps, duct tape, and knotted up rags.Stiles had just wanted to get away for a while, do something useful, stop thinking about how he smelled like ashes and blood.

“The gas station was closed.There was an RV out back that was busted but Parrish wanted to check it out for anything we could use.”

Stiles swallowed thickly and the scent of gunpowder clung to the inside of his nose.

“Attack came out of nowhere.They, uh, winged Parrish.Almost shot my alpha in the head.I was ducked down behind a dumpster, they hadn’t seen me.I saw Scott go for cover and he stepped into a fucking bear trap.I heard his leg snap.He went down and his hand went right into another trap.”

Laura made a pained noise in the back of her throat.Stiles wiped at his nose.Scott’s death roar in the tunnels was one of the worst thing that topped Stiles’s list of things he hated having in his head.But the way Scott had tried to swallow his screams during that confrontation, that was high on the list as well.

“Parish managed to get to Scott and was helping him get out of the traps but they were taking fire from the RV.They still hadn’t seen me and I—I was so angry.”

Laura’s hand found his and squeezed it.

“It’s funny, I don’t really remember what happened next.Like a play by play.I know I picked up Parrish’s gun.He’d dropped it and… I’ve never been one for guns but I knew how to use it.Dad made sure because they were always in the house.I used it.And I used magic.And the next thing I remember was seeing the RV on fire.One of them….One of them was still screaming.It didn’t even seem real but all I could see was the red.”

Stiles’s voice was a mere whisper by that point.

Laura sighed.

“I keep feeling it.Red.All over my hands like I can’t—it won’t wash off.”

“Yeah.”

Laura tugged until Stiles turned over to face her.Her eyes roamed all over his face, reassessing him.

“Where the hell were you before you came here?‘Cause I feel like I would have heard through the network if something like that happened.”

Part of his mouth quirked up.

“Beacon Hills.Twenty-Seventeen in a very fucked up parallel world.”

Laura’s eyes widened as she absorbed that.

“Your heart didn’t blip.”

“Wasn’t a lie.”

“What—how?”

Stiles shook his head.“That part doesn’t really matter.I just want you to know that everything you’re feeling?The anxiety, the flashbacks, the red, nightmares, the not wanting to talk about it?I know what that’s like.All of it.It really sucks.But you’re not alone, okay?”

Laura’s grip on his hand was almost too painful.

“I don’t know what to say.I don’t know what to feel.I don’t really feel anything right now.I should, though, right?Someone—a normal person would be feeling something.You did.”

Stiles snorted.“I’ve never been a normal person in my entire short life.After the RV I went numb, too.It’s a—a trauma response.It all comes back, sometimes in flashes, sometimes all at once.You’ll feel it at some point.”

Laura shut her eyes.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered.Laura let go and viciously wiped at her face and cleared her throat.“I don’t want to feel any of that.”

Stiles bit his lip.

“Do you regret it?”

Laura’s head snapped up, affronted.“Excuse me?”

“Do you regret killing Lahey?”

Laura flinched back.

“Because you felt relief at some point, didn’t you?Or happiness.Or satisfaction.”

“I didn’t enjoy that.”

“Neither did I.Those people who ambushed us, they set cruel traps and tried to kill part of my pack.My brothers.I was glad when they were dead.And it tore up my guts to admit that, but my pack was worth it.”

Dad had been so devastated when they came back.And worried.Stiles had checked out mentally, didn’t talk, didn’t react.Dad had kept telling him it was okay.That he never had to be sorry for surviving.Eventually Stiles had come back and thrown up all over Dad’s shoes and felt like he was burning alive in that RV.Then he’d pushed it down because they had to leave and the next threat wouldn’t wait for him so he had to be ready to do it again.

He couldn’t look Derek in the eye for days.

“But you lost part of yourself.Didn’t you?”

“You mean innocence?”

Laura nodded.

“I don’t know how much of that I had left at that point.I’ve had to do a lot of things that still keep me up at night.Things that’ll never wash clean.But it does change something inside you.”

Laura looked away but not before Stiles caught the devastation and guilt smeared across her features.

“Hey.”Stiles tugged on her sleeve until she looked back.“What else are you thinking about?”

Laura tried to pull away but Stiles held on to her sleeve.

“It’s just me,” Stiles said.“Whatever it is, I can guarantee you it’s not worse than anything I’ve already done.”

“It’s so fucking stupid.”Laura ran a hand through her hair, tugging out strands from the braid.“I can’t be alpha now.”

Stiles made a face.“Why not?”

Laura gave him a flat look.“You didn’t see what I did to him.That wasn’t just defense of a pack mate.That was—it was monstrous.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Laura and she looked away, clearing her throat and rubbing at her arms as if chilled, even though the air was still pretty warm.

“Look at me.”Stiles waited until Laura did.“Flare your eyes.”

The guilt flooded back.

“No.”

“Please?”

Laura shook her head and looked down, but then she changed her mind.Almost angry, she looked up and her eyes flared.

Bright, electric blue.

“This what you want to see?Only killers have eyes like this.”

The blue burned in the dark but Stiles gave her a smile and tucked her hair back behind her ear.

“They’re still gorgeous.And the strongest wolf I’ve ever known had eyes just like that.”

Laura blinked and the blue faded away to her normal hazel.

“Who?”

“Derek.”

Laura recoiled.

“What?No.No, he doesn’t.His eyes are still gold, he’s still fine.”

Stiles wet his lips.“My Derek’s were blue.”

Laura covered her mouth with her hand.“How could that have happened?When?”

“He was a teenager.There was a messed up situation with another pack and his girlfriend at the time got caught in the middle of it.He blamed himself when she died.He told me that a beta’s eyes only change to blue if they kill an innocent.I never liked that theory.I’ve always thought it was more of an emotional response to the event.This kind of proves it.Because Lahey?He wasn’t innocent.He killed me.I died.And before me he abused his son without mercy.”

Stiles let his hand drop to his lap.

“I never knew you in my world.You died before I got to meet you.But I know you here and, let me tell you, you’re going to be a great alpha.You know what your eyes tell me?That you protected someone in your pack.You saved me.You didn’t hesitate.”

“I’m not the one that restarted your heart or helped you breathe, Stiles.”

“No.But you killed the monster and I don’t have to look over my shoulder anymore.As far as I’m concerned that makes you a big goddamn hero, Hale.”

Laura looked away, face wet.

“I don’t feel like one.”

“If being a hero were easy everyone would do it, right?”

That made her laugh a little.Then she went quiet.

“How do you live with it?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question.

“I go to therapy.I talk with Dad.He’s real big on touching base with what goes on in my head.Mostly I just…keep going forward.It still trips me up a lot.”

Laura closed her eyes and shook her head.

“I tore him apart.There wasn’t enough of him left to…”She shuddered.

Stiles took her hand and squeezed.

“I forgive you for what you did to save me.Even if you can’t forgive yourself.But you’re not a monster, Hale.Monster’s wouldn’t feel bad at all.”

It was shattering to witness Laura fall apart.Stiles had no idea if the words he said would help or if they’d been the right ones at all.He held Laura and she held him back and Stiles would never tell another soul the things she sobbed up on the roof. 

“Better?” he asked after she pulled away.She nodded.“Good, because you got snot all over my shoulder.Seriously, there’s enough to streak.”

Laura gave a stuffy laugh and smacked his arm.“You’re an asshole.”

“One of my charms.”

“You have charm?”

Stiles opened his flannel and gestured to the stitching inside.

“I have about thirty different charms.Some of them are even useful.”

Laura laughed again and it sounded more on part with her usual self.

“You’re gonna be okay, Hale.I promise.”

“You swear?”

Stiles extended his pinky finger.

“Always and frequently.”

They shook on it.

“While we’re up here baring our souls and whatnot, you mind if I give you a little advice?”

“Sure.”

“Let Derek in a little.He may not be able to empathize with you like I can but he loves you and he listens.He just wants to take care of you.”

Laura hunched up a bit.

“I’m the big sister.That’s my job.”

“It’s part of his, too.”

Laura bit her lip and gazed up at the sky as if it was something new she had never seen before.They stayed like that for a while.

“So, when you said Scott, you mean Scott from downstairs, right?”Laura said, her voice more even and calm.“You’re not just from a parallel world.You’re actually little Stiles from that world.”

Stiles hummed in confirmation.

“So many things are starting to make sense.I can’t believe sweet little Scott became an alpha in your world.”

“Scotty was a true alpha.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.”Laura then groaned.“I can’t believe your whole secret thing is parallel world time travel.I owe Derek money now.”

Stiles chuckled.“Really?He guessed it?”

“Months ago.I thought he was an idiot.”

“How much do you owe him?”

Laura reached over and flicked his arm.“Let’s just say he’s gonna get fat from all the ice cream he’s gonna splurge on.”

“Well, if you ask nice I’m sure he’ll share with you.Then you can get fat together.”

Laura squawked in outrage and wrestled Stiles into a headlock that turned into a grudging hug of sorts.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” she murmured.

Stiles hugged her back.“Me, too.”

Derek glanced up at them when they finally came back downstairs.Stiles winked and sat on Mini-Stiles, eliciting an outraged squeak and wheezed, “Get your big butt off of me!”

The ensuing struggle where Mini-Stiles pushed at Stiles and begged Scott for help turned into Scott falling on Stiles, almost kneeing him in the groin, and caused Mini-Stiles to flail about saying, “Traitor!You’re supposed to help me!”

Laura was able to slide in on Derek’s other side, steal the popcorn, and sling her feet on the coffee table without notice from the younger boys. 

Stiles finally had mercy on his younger self.He picked Scott up, surprising a yelp out of him, and plopped down next to Mini-Stiles.

“You’re an ass,” his younger self said, shoving at Stiles with his bare feet.

“I could have farted on you, you know.”

“I would have farted on your head.”

“That would have been an amazing feat since I was still sitting on you.”

“Well, you aren’t now!”

Mini-Stiles launched a not-so surprising attack that ended up with Stiles squished against Derek and then falling on the floor under two nine-year olds attacking all his ticklish spots until Stiles was curled up in a ball laughing.

“Is no one going to help me?” he pleaded to the werewolves just sitting there watching the spectacle.

“You’re doing just fine, Stilinski.”Laura dropped some popcorn on his head.

“Derek!” Stiles whined, out of breath.“Save me from these heathens!”

“What’s in it for me?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes.So that’s how it was going to be.

“How about I don’t curse your little werewolf ass.”

Derek pretended to think about it.“Nah.You’ll have to sweeten the pot, I’m not scared of that.”

Stiles had to veto the first five comebacks that wanted to roll off his tongue.Three because there were children present and two because Laura was.So, Stiles did the next best thing.He reached up and pinched the highly sensitive place behind Derek’s knee.Derek let out a high pitched yelp and leapt up and sideways, which put him in Laura’s lap and the bowl of popcorn spilled everywhere.

From there, chaos ensued.

When Dad and Shawn arrived around midnight they found everyone in the backyard.Laura was growling and chasing Mini-Stiles around while Scott clung to her back and tried to squirt him with a water gun.Mini-Stiles retaliated with one of his own, shooting wide or hitting Laura only occasionally.Stiles was dodging around the trees and rose bushes, pelting Derek with marshmallows when he could.

“Hi, Dad!”Stiles twisted away from Derek’s reaching hand and high stepped over an old basketball.Then he zigged when he should have zagged and went down in a tumbling roll under Derek who pinned him to the ground.

Stiles smashed a handful of sticky marshmallows into Derek’s face.

“You yield?”

“Never,” Derek growled and ducked down to smear the marshmallows on Stiles’s face despite his protests.

“We’re raising a goddamn zoo,” Stiles heard Dad say.

“Zoos are calmer than this,” Shawn said.

Derek pulled up and licked his lips, staring down at Stiles with a dangerous expression that sent Stiles’s stomach to doing all sorts of weavy-wavy motions.Part of Stiles wanted to rise up and—

Oh.

_Oh, no._

Stiles acted quick to flip them so Derek was on his back.Derek let out a surprised, “Oof!” and blinked up at Stiles, a flush high on his cheeks.

“Let your guard down.”

Stiles got to his feet and offered a hand.He pulled Derek to his feet and avoiding his gaze.

Laura caught Mini-Stiles and dragged him back to where Dad and Shawn were standing.Mini-Stiles was out of breath and laughing.Scott slid off Laura’s back and squirted Mini-Stiles a few more times then sprinted for Dad and hid behind him.

“I have immunity!” Scott crowed.“You can’t shoot the sheriff!”

Mini-Stiles held his own water gun and looked as though he was contemplating just that, consequences be damned.Dad gave him a Look and put his hands on his hips.

“You better not shoot the sheriff.I’ll break out your full name, young man.”

Mini-Stiles said, “Ugh.Scott, you’re such a weeine!”

Scott just cackled.

“How old are you three again?” Shawn asked Stiles, Laura, and Derek, taking in their disheveled and sticky appearance.

“Oh, like you’re such an adult now,” Laura said and made a face.“In fact, you’re only a few years older.”

Laura gave Stiles and Derek a wicked look.They both returned it and looked back to Shawn.

“Laura Lynn, don’t you dare,” Shawn said, raising a finger to point at them.

They all moved at once.Stiles and Laura feinted to the sides while Derek went for the front and then it was a tangle of limbs and then Shawn was on the ground with two werewolves holding him down and Stiles with marshmallows and absolute ruthless abandon.

“You guys are so dead,” Shawn wheezed, marshmallows smashed all over his face and head.

Dad looked up to the sky beseechingly. 

“Relax Dad, it could be worse.We could all be on drugs, instead,” Mini-Stiles said, taking the opportunity to squirt at the four of them on the ground.

“Yeah,” Scott said.“We could be doing drugs.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” Dad said.“Hale, when you’re done with that, make sure you lock up on your way out.”

Shawn tried to throw his siblings off but, despite all his training, he was no match for werwolf strength.

“John, don’t you dare leave me here.”

“I’m too old for this sort of thing.Best of luck, rookie.”

Dad waved at Shawn and made it as far as the door.

Later, no one would say who actually pulled the trigger.Dad stopped cold when a spray of water hit the middle of his back.When he turned around Scott and Mini-Stiles were pointing at each other.

“He did it!” they said together.

Dad may have been a little old but he was plenty spry and by the time he was done everyone was breathless, laughing, and covered in grass and water and marshmallows.


	7. Jungle Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What was the goal of coming here to figure this out?” he asked.
> 
> Stiles wanted out of the conversation so badly.
> 
> “I don’t know. That’s kind of the rite of passage for this, isn’t it? Baby twink goes to a gay bar to figure their shit out?”
> 
> ~  
> Or, it's chapter seven, time for a sexual identity crisis!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for anxiety, complicated reactions to coming out, allusions to sexual violence, and grief. So much grief. Please have tissues ready.
> 
> Happy Valentines day, babes, this hella long chapter is brought to you by copious amounts of the author's tears, a major snowstorm, and the following tearjerker songs I've had on repeat for, like, a week: Loyal Brave True by Christina Aguilera, I Don't Quite Remember by Beth Crowley, and Unchained Melody by the Unrighteous Brothers.

Stiles had a problem.

And, like so many of his other problems, issues, and damages, Stiles had no idea how to start even fixing it.

So he fell back on old habits.Well, certain old habits.If he could have donned a mask, dressed in black, and snuck out to do battle with Beacon Hills’ criminal population he wouldn’t have made any headway in fixing the problem but he might have succeeded in thoroughly ignoring it.

He definitely would have felt better.

Barring that backslide right into another cabin intervention, he began cleaning, much to Mini-Stiles’s suspicious confusion. 

“You actually cleaned the bathroom,” Mini-Stiles said, face pinched between worry and disgust.He eyed the bottle of foaming tile cleaner and the sponge in Stiles’s hands.“You’re freaking me out.If you don’t stop I’m gonna tell Dad.”

“Tell him what?He’ll be happy there’s no more mold in the corner.”

“It’s too bright in here when I turn on the light now.It’s unnatural.”

“You’re unnatural.”

Mini-Stiles, highly affronted, took off and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Daaaad!He called me unnatural!”

There was a pause from Dad.“Was that supposed to be a secret?”

“Ugh!”

Stiles figured it would probably freak Dad out if he continued to clean until the entire house was spotless, too, so he’d stopped after the upstairs was done.He could get downstairs when Dad was at work.Or maybe the garage.

Hands still raw from the cleaners, Stiles hit his books, instead. 

He spread them out on the bed around him and began look through them for any clues about that symbol that gave him the creeps, but he immediately ran into some problems.The problems became tangents which became detours and before he knew it he had highlighters and pens spilled on the bed and struggled to write as fast as he was thinking.

Dad wandered in while he was scribbling furiously in a notebook.

“Thanks for taking the initiative on the bathroom,” Dad said.“Think you could instill some of that take charge attitude in Mischief?”

Mini-Stiles shouted from his room, “I’d rather eat dirt!”

“Okay, you’ll be cheaper to feed,” Dad answered.

Mini-Stiles grumbled something under his breath and went back to fighting a zombie hoard.Dad pursed his lips in an effort not to laugh aloud.

Stiles snorted and went back to his books.He had about eight of them spread out on the bed and Dad came over to pick a few of them up.He squinted at a green one and tried to sound out the title.

“This one of those Archaic Latin books you were telling Rafe about?”He flipped through some of the pages.

Stiles glanced up.

“No, that’s fifteenth century German.”

Dad raised an eyebrow.“You can actually read that?”

“No.”

Dad turned the book around and held it out.“Then why do you have entire passages highlighted?And should you even be marking up a book like that?”

“Well, it’s my book and it’s not an antique so it’s fine.And I don’t know how to translate it from scratch but I remember what the translation in that passage was,” Stiles said and squinted at the book.“Yeah, that one was a doozy.I had to come up with, like, three hundred dollars the first time around to get some skeevy guy in London to translate it for me.That part talks about nemetons in other parts of the world.”

Dad raised his eyebrow at the passage.

“Nemetons.Is that the tree thing?”

“The magical stump that was the cause of so much pain and misery?Yes.”

“Huh.”Dad flipped through a couple more pages and picked up another book.“More fifteenth century German?”

“No, that one’s modern Dutch.”

“Oh, of course.”

Dad cleared a spot and started looking through the other books.

“Are you trying to put resources together for Rafe?”

Stiles shrugged.

“I was trying to look for that symbol-thing, but then I realized I haven’t touched these books at all since I got them.I’m going back through and pulling out all the information I remember.I’ll give him copies of everything I make, though, he might find something useful in them.”

Stiles finished with a book on lunar cycles as they related to different creatures and tossed it to the foot of the bed.

“You’ve pretty much highlighted everything in this book,” Dad said, turning it sideways to puzzle at the diagrams.

“Well, that one’s on actual magic, so it’s full of important bits.The rest of these were a tossup between good information and paranoid, religious superstition.”

“Sounds like that could be frustrating.”

“It was at the time we were first translating it.”

“And now?”

“I can remember the translations for most of this but I’ll need to get the rest looked at later.”Dad seemed to be actually interested in what Stiles was doing so he offered him his notebook.“Do you want to see what I’ve got so far?”

Dad flashed a smile and took it.

“Everything is divided into different sections.That one’s on magic and spell workings.”

“These are actual spells?”Dad read through a couple of the last pages.“‘Meet Thyself’?”

“Oh, that’s a deep meditation type thing.Supposed to be a powerful tool to get to the center of your mind.I don’t have the full translation for that yet.”

“I wouldn’t think you would need a spell to get to the center of your own mind.”

“I guess someone did at some point.It looked interesting.”

Dad glanced between Stiles and the notebook.“You’re not experimenting with any of these before you have a full and accurate translation are you?”

“No, I know better than that,” Stiles said with an eye roll.“I mainly tinker with what I already know.”

“And are you still doing that?I haven’t seen you bring out your magic stuff in a while.”

Stiles swallowed and covered up his hesitation with another shrug.

“Magic takes a lot of energy.I haven’t had a lot extra to spare since Lahey so I’ve scaled back.”Concern etched Dad’s face, which was exactly what Stiles didn’t want.Stiles hurried to say, “I’m fine, I’m just still tired.Between that and then catching up at school it kept me a little worn down.I’ll bounce back soon.”

The concern was still there.“Do you think you need to go get checked out?”

“No, I’m okay,” Stiles said, firm. 

Dad frowned but said, “Alright.You let me know the moment that changes, you hear?”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles said with a salute.

Stiles should have kept his mouth shut because Dad watched him even closer than usual after that, kept asking questions as to how he felt.Normally that wouldn’t be much of a big deal but, seeing as Stiles was trying desperately to ignore a certain issue, all it did was bring that to the forefront and onto the tip of his tongue.

And he didn’t want to acknowledge it, much less discuss itNot with Dad, not with anyone. 

He just wanted it to go away and leave him alone.He had other things to focus on and think about that were far more important.

It didn’t help that Lydia was still around.There were flashes of her hair in the corner of his vision, the feel of her presence by his side, even the echo of her laugh when, in a fit of exasperation, he renamed McCall in his contact list as Asshole Ignoramus because the man kept calling mountain ash _gothic fairy dust_.

If it had been anyone else Stiles would have laughed.But it was McCall so he didn’t.

It got to where even sleep didn’t give him much reprieve.Even if it wasn’t a nightmare Lydia still showed up and talked to him.The problem was that, in the dreams, no sound came out of her mouth.And when he was awake, all she could say was _you’re the one who always figures it out._

Once, before his dreams abruptly shifted to the park with Mini-Stiles, he thought Lydia had been standing in front of a strange sort of door.It was suspended in the middle of an open space somewhere in the preserve, not attached to any walls or other structures.Strange, pencil-thin vines snaked along the ground and under the bottom of the door.They were attached to Stiles, anchored through his skin like barbs, jerking him forward.

Lydia had mouthed something at him and turned to reach for the handle.

Stiles had tried to grab for her, to tell her, _don’t open the door_.

And then he had been in the park and Mini-Stiles tugged him up to make catapults and trebuchets out of sticks and leaves and rocks.

He woke up later feeling so unsettled he’d untangled himself from Mini-Stiles before even realizing he was there and escaped to the roof, covered in a cold sweat and shaking until the sun came up.

~

As the end of June came rolling towards him, Stiles found himself almost dreading the _ding_ of text messages that came from Derek making plans to hang out.He said almost because, even though his stomach curdled in anticipation before they arrived, his anxiety levels dropped when they walked through the door, hugging and scent marking him.

It was always Derek-and-Laura together, since Laura controlled the car, so Stiles pretended to commiserate with Derek over that particular injustice while secretly thanking every star in the sky that Laura had sadistic control issues when it came to her siblings.

Still, he began to notice things he couldn’t un-notice or ignore or forget.The problem slowly transformed its way into a capital-I Issue.

Stiles was attracted to Derek Hale.

Stiles found himself wanting to kiss Derek Hale.

Stiles imagined doing other things with Derek Hale.

Stiles was the goddamn scum of the earth for even considering such a thing and his guts writhed with shame but he couldn’t stop feeling it.Not once he put a name to it.Not once it was in his attention.

He was falling in love.

He couldn’t be falling in love.

But he was.He knew all the fucking signs.

And Lydia was still there.Hovering just on the edges of his perception.Whispering about him figuring it out.Always the same tone, the same level expression, and it fucking killed him. 

It got even harder to pretend he was even holding things together because, suddenly, Stiles began noticing all new things about Derek he hadn’t clocked before.Like the slope of his shoulders or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and revealed his bunny teeth.Stiles was sure Derek had gotten taller, too, though he couldn’t pinpoint when.In the not too distant future he was going to get a growth spurt and shoot up until he filled out into the man Stiles had once known.

A sick but hopeful flutter went through Stiles’s stomach when Derek would come up behind him and reach around for something, like when Stiles was in the kitchen.He got a shiver down his spine when Derek put his arm up on the back of the couch when they watched movies.Because Stiles was suddenly always sitting next to Derek even though he didn’t plan it that way.

Had he always sat next to Derek?He couldn’t even remember.

Stiles was losing his mind.Again.Why else would he suddenly be looking at Derek the way he’d always look at Lydia?

Stiles didn’t get any sleep after that.It had been two weeks since the marshmallow incident and all the confusing crush feelings were like poison creeping through his head.Stiles buried his face in his pillow when it became too much and only surfaced to breathe, his eyes sore and gritty, nose stopped up with snot.

By morning he had a text from Derek waiting, confirming plans for the afternoon.Stiles begged out of them, re-reading the text before he sent it because his vision was so blurry.There was no emoticon or tag to the response but Stiles felt the confused disappointment through the phone and pushed it away until it fell on the floor.

Stiles pulled the blankets over his head as the sun began to rise and swallowed against a roll of nausea.

He heard Dad and Mini-Stiles go downstairs to start breakfast but he didn’t follow.Five minutes later Mini-Stiles came barreling up the stairs.

“Wakey, wakey, it’s morning, string bean!”

Mini-Stiles hopped up on the bed and jostled Stiles.

Stiles groaned and curled up tighter.“Go away.”

“Dad says breakfast.”Mini-Stiles poked at him.

“Stop,” Stiles croaked.

“Dude, are you sick?” 

Mini-Stiles poked him again.Stiles responded by groaning.Mini-Stiles tried to yank the blanket off but Stiles had a death grip on it.His younger self sighed and left.

Dad came up a few minutes later, because of course he did. 

The bed sank down behind Stiles and Dad gently shook his shoulder.

“You sick, kiddo?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles said miserably.“Just don’t feel good.”

Dad tugged at the blanket.Stiles let it go and grimaced at the bright light.Dad brushed his bangs aside and felt his forehead.

“Well, you don’t have a fever.What hurts?”

“Stomach.Head.”

Every ragged inch of his traitorous heart and soul.

“Did you eat anything different yesterday?”

Stiles shook his head.

“We have some Pepto in the medicine cabinet if you want to try that.”

Stiles shook his head again.“I think I just wanna sleep.”

Dad checked his forehead again.“All right.I’ll come back and check on you in a bit, okay?”

Stiles hummed and pulled the covers back around himself.Dad brought him some water and then Stiles was left alone.He didn’t sleep.He did doze but he kept coming out of it with anxious thoughts and flashes of deep guilt that sent him into several dry heaving fits.

Dad came to check on him around eleven and goaded him into coming downstairs and laying on the couch.Stiles ended up with a bottle of Sprite and a bowl of chicken noodle soup, both of which helped a little.Dad and Mini-Stiles puttered around until it was time for Mini-Stiles to go to Scott’s for a kids only sleepover.

“Sure you don’t feel good?” Mini-Stiles said.

Stiles shook his head.“Go have fun with Scott.”

Ever since McCall had come clean about his furry condition, he had spent more so much time with Scott that Mini-Stiles hadn’t been able to see him more than a few times a week.His younger self had been brooding with dark jealousy over that for days until Scott invited him to sleep over.It was a kids only event, just the two of them.Stiles was supposed to have spent the day with the Hales so no one was left out.

Mini-Stiles pushed down a worried look.“You better get over it before Monday.Laura said we have plans.”

Stiles frowned.“What plans?”

“ _Plans_ ,” Mini-Stiles said with emphasis.“So get better.”

He then tweaked Stiles’s nose and ran for the door.Damn brat.

Dad followed at a more sedate pace, shaking his head.“I’ll be back soon.”

Then it was just Stiles alone in the house with nothing but his thoughts and a horrible pulsing ache that cramped his insides.He gave it until the end of the show on TV before he leveraged himself up and got in the shower. 

Under the hot water one thing became clear.Stiles needed to get this thing sorted out and quick.He didn’t want to keep feeling like this and he didn’t want to hurt Derek like he had that morning.It wasn’t fair to him, after all. 

Dad came back and Stiles was sitting up on the couch by then.He checked Stiles’s head again.“Still no fever, so that’s good.You sure you’re gonna be okay by yourself tonight?”

“It’s just a stomachache.I’ll be fine.”

“You want me to call someone to keep you company?”

Stiles shook his head.“I’ll probably go to sleep early.Hopefully I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Dad got ready for his shift and kissed Stiles’s head before he grabbed his keys.

“You call if you start feeling worse, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“Love you, kid.”

“Love you, too, pops.”

As soon as Dad’s cruiser pulled out of the driveway Stiles’s stomach gave another painful flip but he ignored it. 

He couldn’t stay in the house.The thought was a blade under his skin, cutting back and forth.He needed to get out, go somewhere away from walls and silence and his thoughts all screaming at each other inside his head.

One of them sounded like Dad.It warned him that wasn’t a good idea and he should probably just _call Dad_ and tell him something was wrong, but Stiles couldn’t.He couldn’t say any of the things going through his head out loud and he didn’t have the patience to write them out.It would have been easier to stop a tornado with a pair of chopsticks.

He just wanted it to go away, to stop, to bury it six feet under so no one else had to see how horrible of a person he could be.

He was upstairs and dressed before he realized it but he waited until sundown to leave.No one had dropped by unexpectedly.Dad had called to check on him around dinnertime and Stiles told him he was turning in, so there’d be no more calls to worry about. 

The lies sat like bitter acid on the back of his tongue and he threw up in the sink after he ended the call.

Stiles grabbed a bottled water on his way out of the house and activated his cloaking charms before he set off.The shadows swallowed him up and the old familiar comfort settled in him.

It would be fine, he reasoned with an edge of desperation.He just needed to get out and get some air, figure this shit out, put it somewhere deep and dark, and then he’d be back before anyone knew he was gone.

Dad would never know.

~

The Jungle was a pulsing vibration of light and music from at least a block away.It looked the same as it had in his world, bright neon lighting up the night like a beckoning siren with promises of loud music, good times, and a pressing crowd. 

He crept up to the front door and waited until the bouncer held it open for a couple going in. Stiles slipped through behind them.Only when he was inside did he drop his charms and weave around people in the laser-lit dim.

The music flooded Stiles and something gnarled and twisted inside his chest eased up.His lungs began to expand.He breathed.His head was no longer the loudest thing in the vicinity.

Stiles found a corner away from prying eyes and leaned into it.The place smelled of too many people with strong cologne, perfume, and BO mixed with varying alcohol and other illegal substances.He wrinkled his nose but desperate beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The first time he’d gone into the Jungle, back in his world, he’d been scared shitless on the inside and not just because they were looking for kanima-Jackson.Son of the sheriff in a bar and under eighteen, it was the perfect mix of every peer pressure and drug and drink lecture he’d ever received slamming into him.He’d almost had a panic attack right there on the dance floor but hid it behind sarcasm.

And he’d fought against it to help Scott keep Jackson from killing anyone else.Later, when things had calmed down, Stiles had gone back on his own.Curious.He’d gotten caught before he made it far but Marvella hadn’t ratted him out.She’d invited him to hang out with some of the other drag queens and entertained all of his awkwardness and questions.

Stiles smiled for a moment.He’d been so…young.Oblivious.More interested in gathering information because that had always been his modus operandi.He’d been concerned with finding out if he was attractive to gay guys rather than…

Stiles swallowed and scrubbed at his face. 

All around him guys were dancing with each other, kissing, pressed in close and having a good time.Same as any other dance or party Stiles had ever been to.Okay, raunchier in some areas and with substantially more glitter and body paint, but it was a bar, not a dance with chaperones.

It didn’t make him feel bad.He couldn’t find anything wrong with it, the same way he never felt anything repulsive or off-putting the first time he’d come to the Jungle.It was a little different, the whole energy, that was all.

That was one thing checked off his internal question sheet.He still had no problem with gayness as a whole. 

Stiles worked on the next question.He could appreciate the different guys before him.Their bodies were attractive, so were some of the faces or the way some styled their hair.But was he just being objective or was it something more? 

There was no tug in his gut.No overt sensation of want.Some fluttering, sure.Even an uptick in his heartbeat as he spotted one guy at the bar, dressed casual in jeans and a white shirt that hugged him in all the right places.He laughed with a group of friends, head thrown back, hand over his heart.His hair was some kind of faux-hawk, shaved to the skin on the sides, and the strip from back to front styled with gel and tinted blue under the lights.

He looked like a soft version of a punk rockstar and—okay, Stiles definitely liked that.And he was okay with liking that. 

So why did the thought of being with Derek in particular make him feel like his insides were strangling him?

The screaming thoughts began to creep up above the music.Stiles tried to concentrate on the beat beneath the instruments.On the way he could feel it in the floor, in the wall behind his back.People passed in front of him, heads bent together, arms around each others’s shoulders.

The problem wasn’t really Derek.Derek was fine. 

Stiles was the problem.Specifically, Stiles catching feelings for Derek.

If he wanted to be honest, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.Looking back it had been building for a while.He was seventy percent sure that Derek liked him back.Or might soon.The way he’d looked down at Stiles when he had him pinned in the backyard, marshmallows smeared on his face, had been a definite _want_ sort of expression. 

Something in Stiles had woken up, seen that, and _wanted back._

He couldn’t deal with that.He had enough bad shit swirling around inside of him on a good day.Even if he could bring himself to make a move, which he definitely would not, Derek deserved someone far better.Someone whole and _stable._

And Stiles could be wrong.Derek might not like him at all that way, Stiles could very well have misinterpreted that whole two-second exchange.All the other behavior Derek was displaying lately, the extra touchy-feely-growly-protective werewolfness, Laura was doing the same thing.Laura did not see him in a romantic light, Stiles would stake his life on that.They were friends.Good friends, and starting to edge in on rock solid, but completely platonic.

Entertaining the thought of Derek as anything more than what he thought of Laura would only end in disaster.Possibly the end of their friendship.Not that he thought Derek was homophobic or anything, but a rejection would put strain on what they did have.It would make him second guess and question everything he did around Stiles and the closeness they’d built would all go away.

And then there was Lydia.

Stiles forcibly blocked thought of her out.He didn’t follow the flash of red hair through the crowd.He ignored the murmur of her voice straining at the edge of his hearing.He couldn’t.Not here.Not now.

So he let the music drown out his thoughts.He kept to the shadows and swayed to the energy and observed.He thought back on old times when he had been here in his world.He almost wanted to say when things were simpler but he knew that wasn’t right.Things weren’t simple back then anymore than they were now.They hadn’t even been easier.

But they felt simpler looking back now.The past always did when he didn’t have to live in the middle of it and not know the outcome.

Stiles wished his Scott were here.He wished he didn’t have to be here on his own trying to sort this pathetic crap out alone.Scott would have had something inspirational to say or, barring that, he would have watched over Stiles as he made an idiot of himself figuring things out. 

Stiles couldn’t afford to do that.Not with some random stranger.Never with Derek.His insides went hot and sour and Stiles ducked away to throw up discreetly in the corner.He hung his head when he was done and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

He was supposed to have been getting better upstairs.At that moment, Stiles felt as if all his hard won progress was seeping into the shitty carpet with his vomit.

Fuck, this had been a bad idea.Stiles patted his pockets for his phone.He had no idea how long he’d been there but he probably needed to start home.All his pockets turned up empty after several searches. _Fuck_.His phone was still in the living room.He never grabbed it before he left.

Stiles pushed off the wall and began weaving his way through the crowd back to the front doors.If Dad came home and Stiles wasn’t there, and completely unreachable, the level of hell he’d have to pay would make Everest look like an anthill.

The crowd was really thick and rowdy and Stiles got shunted closer to the bar as he made for the exit.Someone backed into him and Stiles went sideways into someone else.Drinks spilled and Stiles flailed because, great, now he had alcohol drenching his jacket.

He looked up to say something and—

Oh, _shit_.

“Stiles?!”

The color drained from Stiles’s face as Shawn Hale righted himself and his now empty beer glasses.

Stiles studied the floor as Shawn marched him over to a group of people and explained, loudly and bluntly, that he had to take a delinquent minor home before he could help them celebrate.That was how Stiles learned Shawn was there with his cousin Tommy, whose wedding invitations Stiles had contemplated setting on fire not too long ago.

Of all the gay bars they had to pick this one to have his damn bachelor party.

“Aww, go easy on him Hale,” someone called, and several others echoed similar, embarrassing sentiments.

Stiles kept his head lowered.He’d never be able to show his face around the Hale pack now.Or ever.

Two minutes later Shawn frog marched Stiles out of the club and into the parking lot.

“How much have you had to drink?” Shawn demanded, and Stiles had never seen him so angry, not even when he’d been facing down Shawn and Dad, guns drawn, in that alley by Sinema.

“This all came from you,” Stiles said, hunching his shoulders and gesturing to the beer soaking his jacket.“Give me a breathalyzer if you want, I haven’t had anything.”

Shawn’s eyes narrowed.“I don’t carry that with me when I’m off duty.”

“Really?Dad does.”

Shawn opened his mouth to retort, then paused and switched tracks.“Does John know you’re out tonight?”

Stiles pursed his lips and looked down at the asphalt.His face felt like a damn oven.

Shawn sighed.

“Right.I’m taking you home.”He directed Stiles through the parking lot, keys in one hand and the other with a grip on the back of Stiles’s jacket.

Shawn led him to a bright yellow SUV and held the key out to unlock it but hesitated.Stiles chanced a side glance at him.Shawn pursed his lips and curled his hand back around the keys.

“Were you doing vigilante work?” he asked, voice hard edged and disappointed, which was so much worse than angry.

“No!I promised Dad and I’ve kept that promise.”

“Then why?I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re underage for everything that goes on in there.”He gestured back over his shoulder at the neon lights.

Stiles contemplated not answering at all but that would just make Shawn madder and he’d march Stiles right up to the front door and make everything worse if Dad was already home.If Dad wasn’t he’d wait with Stiles until he came home and the result would be the same.

Stiles was _so fucking stupid._

“I wasn’t doing anything bad, I swear.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Stiles worked his jaw and, horrified, felt moisture gather at the corners of his eyes.

“I thought it would help,” he blurted.

“Help with what?”

Stiles shook his head and turned to lean back against the SUV.He couldn’t bear to look at Shawn.All the screaming and words and _things_ in his head came surging up with twice the vengeance of earlier. 

Stiles folded his arms over his aching stomach.

“I’m not—not exactly straight, okay?”

It came out thin and reedy.Half a plea, half anguish, and one hundred percent something he was not ready to talk about out loud.The silence after that admission was stifling.

Shawn’s hand was gentle on his shoulder.

“Does that bother you?”

Stiles let out a bitter laugh.

“No?It shouldn’t.I’ve had friends who were gay and it’s never bothered me.I don’t—Idon’t think I’m gay?But I’m not straight and I...I didn’t know what to do.I wanted to try and figure it out for sure, because I...” Stiles blinked up at the sky.“I think I only managed to make things worse, though.”

Shawn released a careful breath.

“Did something happen inside?”

“Yeah, my own stupidity.”Stiles never should have left home.It hadn’t helped at all, only got him caught.

“Did something happen with _someone_ in there?” Shawn clarified. 

Stiles glanced up at him, confused, before Shawn’s meaning hit him.

“I wouldn’t—I’m not about to jump into something like _that_ with a stranger.”The mere thought sent his stomach lurching vaguely upwards.

“And no one did anything you didn’t want?”

Stiles buried his face in his hands.“I hid in the corner like a coward, okay?No one even saw me and I didn’t talk to anyone!”

Shawn settled back against the car and put his arm around Stiles’s shoulders.When that wasn’t rejected he pulled Stiles against him a little more firmly.

“What was the goal of coming _here_ to figure this out?” he asked.

Stiles wanted out of the conversation so badly.

“I don’t know.That’s kind of the rite of passage for this, isn’t it?Baby twink goes to a gay bar to figure their shit out?”

Shawn covered his face.“Oh, dear god, please don’t call yourself that.”

“Hey, if I have to be embarrassed with this conversation, so do you.”

Shawn was quiet for a minute.Then his shoulders began shaking.Stiles risked a glance up at him.The bastard was _laughing_.At first he wanted to be mad but then Stiles started, too, and then they were both laughing.Just a tad hysterical.Just a bit ridiculous.

“Oh, kid.”Shawn scrubbed a hand over Stiles’s head.“You’re a mess, you know that?”

Stiles felt something tentatively unwind inside him.

“Yeah, I know.”He was nothing but a mess.

“I guess you haven’t talked about this with your dad yet,” Shawn said.“Are you worried about how he’ll react?”

Stiles sniffed and shook his head in a sharp negative.Dad would…Dad would probably be okay about it.He was fine with far stranger things than his kid from another world not being straight.Or bisexual?Was that the word he wanted to go with?

But it wasn’t a simple issue of coming out as whatever he was.The issue was shackled to at least a dozen others, all of them laced with triggers and landmines that could rip him apart.Or, worse, someone else who happened to get close enough.Dad had no problem stepping into the line of fire and tearing the curtain back when push came to shove.He had no problem picking up the pieces of Stiles and stitching him back together, either.

But that was Dad.He had a strong paternal instinct that overrode common sense and gave a lot of allowance for someone like Stiles.Stiles couldn’t expect that of anyone else, especially not someone like Derek.Derek deserved better.

And Stiles couldn’t be.That was pretty obvious to him.

“Dad’s not the problem.”Stiles tried to hide a shuddery breath.“It’s all me.It’s just so fucking complicated.”

Stiles’s chest ached.He wrapped his arms tighter around himself and looked out across the parking lot.

“Stiles.”Shawn waited until he looked over.“I get that it’s scary and maybe even a little embarrassing, but at least tell him some bare basics so he knows something is going on with you.There’s other places for you to go to figure this out.Places that are far safer.”

“I didn’t go in there unarmed.”

He’d made sure he had at least three shirts on before he left the house so every spell he might possible need was at hand.

“Don’t,” Shawn said, low and serious.“You know better than that.All it takes is a single moment for someone to take advantage. Especially when you’re alone and in a vulnerable state of mind.”

Stiles bristled.“I am not—“

“Don’t even finish that sentence.”

Stiles snapped his mouth shut.Shawn squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and I’m not saying you’re weak.I know you’re not,” Shawn said with a pointed look.“But this is not the place for you to be, _alone_ , trying to figure stuff out.I’ve seen what can happen to all kinds of people in a moment someone else exploited.I never want that to happen to you.Understand?”

Stiles was stunned into silence for a few moments.That particular danger had seriously never even crossed his radar.The thought of someone wanting to… _exploit_ him like that was so foreign.He was the skinny weirdo usually overshadowed by highly attractive supernatural creatures.His problem had always been failing to attract some kind of reciprocation.At least, unless the other party was looking for an easy way to send a message to his friends, then Stiles was a good target but usually only to get beaten up.

It hit him then just how fucked up his perception was.He’d nearly been mugged because he didn’t register mundane threats.He’d underestimated Lahey and nearly paid for it with his life and put Mini-Stiles in danger.

Stiles had been incredibly, unbelievably, pathetically stupid then. He’d been incredibly, unbelievably, pathetically stupid tonight.

And Shawn was right. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said.It came out a whisper.

“C’mere.”Shawn tugged him around until he had Stiles in a hug, his face squished into Shawn’s shoulder.Shawn squeezed the back of his neck.“You’re not alone, okay?You might have been before but you aren’t now.You have a family and a pack and we’re here for you if you let us be.So let us.”

Stiles nodded, not trusting his voice.He had told Laura the exact same thing not long ago.Why did he keep forgetting that?

Shawn patted Stiles’s back and said, “Get in the car, I’m gonna take you home.”

Stiles twisted his hands in the hems of his shirts on the drive.It was almost like coming out of a dream and realizing how off everything had been.Stiles should never have snuck out.What had he even been thinking?Reaching back now, it was like trying to see through a haze.It almost hadn’t felt like he’d had any say in his actions, he’d just reacted to them.

They pulled up in front of the house at the same time the cruiser pulled into the driveway.

A gut-punched whine escaped his throat.“Oh, no.”

He hunched down before he realized it.Like that would have helped anything since he was sitting in a _bright yellow SUV_ in front of the sheriff’s house.Dad got out and tilted his head, confused, and made his way down to the curb.

Shawn reached over and grasped his arm.“Hey, it’s okay.I’ll go in with you.”

Stiles’s breath quickened.“He’s gonna be so mad.”

“Probably,” Shawn said.“But it’s gonna be okay, kid.”

Shawn got out of the car.Stiles fumbled with the passenger door and finally managed to open it.His fingers were shaky and refused to grip anything. 

“Stiles?Are you okay?What’s going on?”

Stiles kept his eyes on Dad’s shoes, unable to look him in the eyes.Shawn held up a hand.

“Let’s take this inside, we should talk.”

Dad reached for Stiles and tugged him forward.Stiles went with it but cringed when Dad froze.He sniffed the air.

“You’ve been drinking?”

“That’s not quite the case,” Shawn said, but Dad hauled Stiles into the house and refused to listen until Stiles took a breathalyzer.He passed and then Dad was still angry but not quite as much as before.

“Someone want to tell me what’s going on now?”

“Stiles, go sit down, bud,” Shawn said.

Stiles wavered, anchoress, and went to the living room without a word.He sank into the couch and buried his face in his hands.Shawn took Dad to the kitchen but despite the low murmur he kept his voice Stiles could still hear the conversation.

“Where the hell was he?” Dad demanded.

“I found him at the Jungle.”

“A bar?!” Dad let out a stream of curses.

“A gay bar,” Shawn said slowly.“He’s questioning, okay?And he is not handling his conclusion well.”

Stiles flinched and studied the carpet between his shoes.

“Questioning,” Dad repeated, uncomprehending. Then, “Oh. _Oh_.”

“Yeah.”Shawn gave Dad a brief rundown of what happened and the it conversation.

They were both quiet for a moment, then Stiles’s heart broke all over the place when Dad said, “Oh, god, was he scared of telling me?”

“He said he wasn’t.I think he’s more scared of how it shifts his identity, but I also got the feeling there was something else tangled in it, too.He said it was complicated.”

They were quiet for a minute and Stiles wished he was somewhere else, anywhere else.He’d made Dad sad again.Stiles closed his eyes as tears dripped down his face.

“Did he...was he with anyone?”

Stiles bit his lip until he tasted copper.

“He said he pretty much hung out in a corner and tried to figure out what was going on in his head.I’ll double check when I get back to the Jungle, but I believe him.He’s too shaken and confused about the whole situation, I don’t think he was up to fooling around with anyone.”

Dad mumbled something.Shawn answered back, something about a phone number, resources. 

Stiles couldn’t believe how much of a mess he’d made of things.Well, no.That was a lie.It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d completely screwed something up.But he felt way more exposed and embarrassed than he ever had about anything else.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The couch dipped beside Stiles and he startled.Shawn squeezed his neck.

“Hey, how are you holding up?”

“Wishing the ground would swallow me,” Stiles muttered.

“It would only spit you back out.You probably taste as rank as you smell.”

Stiles let out a wet laugh and buried his face in his hands again.Shawn pulled him into a side hug.

“You’re gonna be okay, kid.”

Stiles nodded, to trusting himself to speak.

Shawn left a few minutes later.Then it was just Stiles and Dad and a sea of unrest between them.Dad hovered by the couch for a moment before he pulled Stiles to his feet.Stiles couldn’t read Dad’s expression as Dad studied him, but then he engulfed Stiles into a near-crushing hug.

“I love you no matter what, kiddo,” Dad said.There was an edge of panic to his words, like he was in a rush to get them out and heard. “Whatever you’re working through, it doesn’t change how I see you.Please say you know that.”

Stiles did, but it was also nice to hear.He pressed his face into Dad’s chest and held on, eyes leaking like sieves.Dad ran his hand up and down Stiles’s back, soothing him.

“I feel really fucked up inside,” Stiles admitted.

Dad squeezed him harder for a second before he let go and had Stiles look up at him.Dad searched his face again, his forehead wrinkled in deep concern, before his expression turned stern.

“You are not fucked up.However you feel, we’ll get it sorted, but it doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you.Okay?”When Stiles didn’t agree Dad tipped his chin up and repeated, “There is nothing wrong with you.”

Stiles’s stomach chose that moment to upset itself even further.Stiles clamped a hand over his mouth and ran for the kitchen, ignoring Dad’s shout.

He barely made it to the sink before watery bile streaked with a little blood came up.Stiles dry heaved after it and tears ran down his face as his stomach cramped horribly.It seemed to go on forever.

Dad pressed a wet rag into his hand and Stiles wiped his mouth.When he turned around his legs were jello so he leaned back into the counter, breathing in small, painful hitches.

Dad ran his hand up and down Stiles’s spine.“How long has this been eating at you?”

“Couple weeks, give or take.”

Dad was quiet a moment.“Why didn’t you come talk to me?”

Shame curdled his gut and Stiles turned around to lean back over the sink.Nothing happened except a few warning twinges.

“This isn’t like the rest of my crap,” Stiles hedged.

“Kid, you just made yourself sick worrying over it.”Dad struggled with what to say next.“That’s not acceptable.I don’t care what it is, if something is bothering you to the point you’re hurting, for whatever reason, I gotta know.I need to so I can help you.”

“Please, Dad.”

Stiles had no idea what he was even pleading for.

“We have to talk,” Dad said, gentling his words over their undercurrent of frustration.Dad was trying so hard.“You know this will only fester if we let it go.It already has.Come on.It’s just you and me.No matter what you have to say I’m still going to love you.”

Stiles clenched his jaw.Dad said that now.But if Stiles got down to the roots, if he pulled everything back…Stiles spat in the sink and wiped his mouth again.He should have just gone to bed like he’d said he had.

“Come on.”Dad led him toward the table after a few more minutes of nothing coming up.“Let’s un-complicate this.”

Stiles slid into a chair at the table.Dad went to the fridge first.When he came back he handed Stiles a bottle of the children’s electrolyte juice he kept on hand for Mini-Stiles.

“Baby juice?” Stiles said, not as an argument but a weak attempt to lighten the mood.Mini-Stiles bore a particular seething hatred toward the stuff, but Dad made him take it when his stomach was upset.Stiles didn’t care either way. 

“You need to get re-hydrated.Otherwise, I’ll have to take you to the hospital and have them stick an IV in you.”

Stiles took the baby juice.

It was a little sweet and also salty against his throat but, as it made its way down, his stomach actually began to relax.He kept it to tiny sips, just enough to wet his throat for a minute before he drank again. 

“So, I think I’m bisexual.”

The word and all its implications hung in the air between them.

“That’s the one where you like both boys and girls, right?”

Stiles shivered, took another sip, and made a _kinda-sorta_ gesture with his free hand.

“For simplicity’s sake, yeah.There’s more things it can mean but I—I haven’t gotten that far into it to, you know, learn what they are.”

“Okay,” Dad said.His mouth upticked in a small smile.“So, is there a boy you like?”

Stiles closed his eyes and nodded.

“I don’t want to deal with this but it—“ he laughed, it sounded more like a sob.“It won’t let me ignore it.I would literally rather do anything else.”

He’d rather shoot himself in the foot, but he kept that colloquium to himself.Dad would probably take it in an entirely more dire manner than Stiles intended, given how the night was going.

“You never suspected before?”

Stiles hesitated.“I might have.”

With painful difficulty, Stiles told Dad about how annoying he’d been to everyone just after Scott started dating Allison, asking if he was attractive to gay guys.Looking back now, he could recognize it for what it was: jealousy.He and Scott had always been the nobody losers.Then, thanks to lycanthropy, only Stiles hung on to that title.

“No girls ever looked twice at me then.I didn’t know if I was putting off a different vibe or if I was just generally unattractive to everyone.But later I started dating Malia and then Lydia and then it just didn’t matter.”

“But now it does.”

Stiles lifted one shoulder in a shrug.Dad reached over and squeezed his hand. 

“Kind of overwhelming?”

Stiles released a deep breath and nodded rapidly.

“Scary?”

“It shouldn’t be.There’s nothing wrong with it, I know that.I just…”

“You didn’t expect it for you?”

“I didn’t expect it _now_.”Stiles sipped on the juice and tried to find the words.“I wanted things to slow down this summer.I’m so damn tired and it feels like this world is constantly ripping the ground out from under my feet.”

Dad ran his thumb back and forth over Stiles’s knuckles.

“Besides, I don’t know how to handle the whole…romance thing.Malia spent most of our relationship learning to be a person again and Lydia—we didn’t have time to do the whole dating thing between running from one crisis to the next.”

They hadn’t gotten that far into typical relationship things at all, come to think of it. 

“Well, you can rest easy because generally being awkward with romance is honestly inherited.”Dad’s face melted into a wry sort of smile.“I had to figure everthing out for myself when it came to girls and dating.It was terrifying, still is.I have no idea how I managed to convince your mother I wasn’t a complete dunce.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Dad reached up and ruffled his hair.

“Thanks, kid.But really, she had to take the initiative in sort of teaching me how to be in a relationship.I’d dated a little bit on and off but never had anything long term.”Dad laughed to himself.“The whole concept around flirting has also never been one of my strong suits.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes in disbelief.

“My Mom always used to call my Dad a smooth operator,” Stiles said, a bit dazed at this brand new information.Had it been the same for his Dad?He hadn’t really picked up on that when Dad had started dating Natalie Martin.“To be honest that confused me for the longest time, though.I thought that meant he worked for the phone company sometimes until I was, like, Mini-Me’s age.I couldn’t understand why he didn’t have a uniform for that, too.”

Dad covered his face and his shoulders shook with laughter.

“Oh, god,” he said, and Dad actually _blushed_.What the hell was even going on tonight?“I would love to hope some other world version of me actually was smooth.I don't know how I ever convinced Claudia to keep going out with me, I thought I botched everything from the beginning.”

Stiles opened his mouth and then snapped it shut.

“What?” Dad asked.

“Nothing.”

“Stiles.”Dad nudged him. 

Stiles watched him for a few seconds, just to make sure he was okay with the way the conversation was going.He seemed to be.

“How—how did you?Ask her out, I mean.”

Stiles’s throat closed up.He had no idea what the answer had been for his Dad.He’d never asked, never felt like his Dad would be okay with remembering with as hard as he took Mom’s death.

“Ah.Well.I stopped to help her change a flat tire.It was summer.She was on her way back to Beacon Hills from a concert.I was so flustered because she looked really cute in her punk rock get-up.I tried a horrible pick up line that made her laugh so hard I thought she would pass out.Don’t ask me what it was, I think I burned it out of my memory.”

Stiles smothered an unauthorized laugh.Dad grinned.

“I thought I had completely blown it, so I went back to the station and was having myself a good pity party, burying myself in paperwork.Next thing I know, Vincent comes back to my desk and says there’s someone who wants to see me.”

Stiles sat up straighter.“She followed you?”

“She was standing at the front counter.Hands in her jean jacket pockets, hair coming loose from a bun, these heavy boots on her feet.Looked like a real tough girl.She handed me a piece of paper and said I had dropped it earlier.”

Stiles blinked.No way.“Her phone number?”

“Even better.It was the name of the diner on the edge of town and a time.We had our first date that night.I did not stop being awkward and she—she kept laughing.”

Dad sniffed and reached up to wipe his face.Stiles’s grin dropped.

“Oh, god, Dad.I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Stupid.How could he be so fucking stupid?Dad’s Claudia had only died a little over a year ago.And here Stiles was dumping all his issues on Dad who was still grieving and—He was such a _moron._

“Hey.”Dad stopped him from getting up.“You don’t have to be sorry.And you shouldn’t be scared to ask about her.She deserves to be remembered.Talked about.”

Stiles let Dad tug him back.

“I always knew she was cool,” he murmured.“I didn’t realize she was that cool, though.”

“Your mom—every version of her— she was amazingly cool.I was the luckiest man in the world that she overlooked my first impression because so much good came from it.”Dad leaned over and kissed Stiles’s head.“And anyone you choose to be with, boy or girl, they’re gonna feel the same way with you.”

The effect on Stiles was the opposite of what Dad was going for.One moment Stiles was holding it together, the next he couldn’t hold on to anything.Dad hushed him, tried to reach for him.Stiles pulled away and stood, hands in his hair, and paced.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Stiles sobbed through it.“None of this is okay.I’m betraying her, Dad.I don’t want to but I am!” 

It would have been easier to speak through a mouth full of broken glass.Or through someone forcibly ripping his teeth out one at a time. 

“She brought me back.I didn’t even exist anymore but she made herself remember.She made everyone remember and she brought me back because she loved me and I can’t—Why couldn’t I do the same?Why don’t I love her enough?She hasn’t even been gone a year and I just—just fall for someone else like she never even mattered?”

Dad exhaled like the air was punched out of him.

“Oh, Stiles, no—“

Dad reached for him but Stiles didn’t want to be comforted.He pulled away, tried to leave but Dad blocked the doorway and gathered Stiles up.Stiles pushed at him halfheartedly.He would have had to hurt Dad to get out of the hold.He couldn’t do that.He’d hurt Dad enough already tonight.

“I just want her back,” Stiles confessed as Dad tucked him close, as if he could just hold on tight enough Stiles might not fall to pieces.“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Oh, baby, I know.I know.”

“How could I do this to her?”

Dad pulled away and took Stiles’s face in his hands.

“You listen to me now, son.You’re not betraying Lydia.I know how you feel, believe me, I struggle with that, too.”Dad’s voice caught but he pushed on.“Claudia was the love of my life and I’m not ready to think about the possibility of being with anyone else.But that doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed when there’s someone I find attractive.My knee-jerk reaction was that I was being disloyal, too, but those thoughts aren’t true and neither are yours.We’re just human, Stiles, and we’re not blind.”

Stiles shuddered.“I don’t want to feel that.”

Dad’s face was so sad but understanding that Stiles couldn’t bear to look at him, but Dad kept his face cradled.

“I know.You don’t have to act those feelings if you’re not ready but please, _please_ , don’t twist it into thinking you’re a bad person for having them.You’re not.You have such a big heart, kiddo, and you have so much love and goodness in you.”

“It _hurts_ ,” Stiles whispered.

Dad started crying and once that happened Stiles had no means of stopping himself at all.He had no idea how long they stood there together.By the time the waterworks dried up, Stiles’s eyes were so swollen he could barely see.Dad was rocking him back and forth, both of them still standing in the kitchen.

Stiles took one tentative, deep breath.Then another.He slowly pulled away from Dad’s embrace.

Dad let him but reached up to cup his cheek and thumb away the tear tracks underneath.Stiles leaned into it.

“I wish I could take that pain away from you, kiddo.”

“You’ve got enough of your own, Dad.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I would in a heartbeat if I could.And I meant everything I said.You are not a bad person for anything you’ve been feeling, okay?I need you to believe that.”

“I’ll try,” Stiles said.That was all he could really promise.“I’m sorry.For sneaking out and making you worry and—and letting it get this far.”

“Thank you.”Dad guided him back to the table and pushed the bottle back into his hands.“Tell me how you’re feeling now.”

Stiles drank some more juice.

“Empty.Drained.”Stiles slumped in the chair.“Really tired.”

“Emotional outbursts tend to do that.”Dad poked at him.Stiles managed the ghost of a smile.Then, because he loved putting Stiles off balance, he said, “I’m really proud of you, kiddo.”

Stiles reared back, incredulous.“What the hell for?”

“Do you remember, back at the cabin, what I said about growth?”Dad waited for Stiles to nod again.“This was scary and triggered a lot of mixed feelings for you, but you made an important discovery about yourself.You uncovered a new part of what makes you Stiles.This was an incredible step.”

Stiles didn’t know whether to laugh or start crying again.

“It doesn’t feel that important.It feels like I’m stepping on a landmine.”

“Maybe today it does and that’s okay, but it won’t always feel like that.One day it’s just going to be one more piece that makes up who you are.Like the way you work a case or cook a casserole, or the way you love and take care of all the people around you.That’s always gonna be a good thing.”

Stiles tried to absorb that.On some level he sort of got what Dad was getting at, but he still didn’t like how dangerous the whole thing felt inside him.The rest of the bombs were still there.

Dad nudged his foot.Stiles raised his gaze.

“Do you know what one of the best things about being a parent is for me?”

Stiles shook his head.

“It’s watching you figure out who you are.What you like, what you don’t like, what interests you.When Mischief was about five or so he started trying to figure out what he wanted to be when he grew up.Every day I came home it was this cute combination.Deputy-firefighter.Batman-scuba diver.Horse wrangler-nuclear power plant operator.”

Stiles snorted.

“Believe me, that one was terrifying, the thought of him in charge of all those very important buttons.Then he managed to watch an episode of _JAG_ and decided he wanted to be a lawyer.He made one of his teachers cry at school while channeling that.”

Stiles bit his lip to stop grinning.

“Still, it was amazing watching him try out different things to find out what he liked.It’s just as amazing watching you figure out who you are, too.You’re a lot more cautious than he is, but in the time I’ve had you, I’ve been lucky to see you slowly transform out of that scared kid I first met in an alley into a young man who is so tenacious, creative, and smart.You’re nowhere near done yet and I can’t wait to meet the man you’re going to become.”

Stiles’s face heated up and he looked down at the table, embarrassed and warmed inside at the same time.

“You’re a cheeseball, Dad,” Stiles said, voice thick.

“I know, I’m good with that.”Stiles finished some more of the juice before Dad was satisfied, then he nudged Stiles to his feet. “Why don’t you go take a shower and then we’ll go get some sleep, okay?You need the rest.”

That sounded just fine to Stiles.He showered in a haze, happy to get the stale beer smell off his skin and all the tears and snot.When he got out of the shower and wiped a hand through the condensation on the mirror, Stiles regarded his reflection for a few minutes. 

He didn’t look any different than he had that morning but he felt like he should have. 

“I’m bisexual,” he said to his reflection.

His reflection’s forehead wrinkled in concentration but nothing else happened.He was still the skinny, pale guy he’d been that morning, someone who could use a few days of uninterrupted sleep and some time in the sun.After all that drama he thought there would be something different. 

But it was still just Stiles.

Stiles bit his lip and breathed in and out, psyching himself upHe met his eyes again and, in a small whisper, said aloud, “I think I might love Derek.”

No apparition appeared behind him.No one whispered in his ear.Stiles sank down until he rested his forehead against the edge of the sink, his heart beating quick in his chest. 

The world had not exploded.

When he went back to his room Stiles stopped short.His pillow was gone.Dad snagged him as he came up the stairs. 

“Come on, you’re with me tonight.”

Stiles didn’t ask if it was because Dad was making sure Stiles didn’t sneak out again or if it was because he needed Stiles to be close.It was probably both.

They got settled and Dad turned out the light.Stiles couldn’t close his eyes, though, even though his body was begging for it.The house was too quiet with just the two of them.That triggered an entirely different train of thought he hadn’t considered at all during his freak out.

A curse slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“What is it?” Dad murmured.

Stiles swallowed.

“Mini-Me.Do you think…do I have to tell him about this?”

Dad shifted so he was facing Stiles even though they couldn’t see each other.

“Do you want to?”

Stiles fidgeted with the hem of the blanket.

“Not yet,” he whispered.

“Then you don’t have to,” Dad said.“Can I ask why?”

“I don’t want to get him confused like I am,” Stiles said.“All he can see is his Lydia and he—I don’t think he’s even aware of other possibilities.”

Dad pulled him close and Stiles ended with his head on Dad’s chest, his heartbeat strong and steady by his ear.

“He may not be,” Dad said.“But don’t decide you know what he will or won’t think or do before you actually talk to him.And don’t try to close yourself off for his peace of mind.That’s not fair to either one of you, remember?”

“I remember.”

Dad kissed the top of his head.

“Remember that Mischief loves you, too, okay?Pretty sure he thinks you’ve hung the moon at this point.So whether or not he’s surprised by this revelation, at the end of the day, all that matters is that he still cares for you you.But you can keep this to yourself for as long as you need to while you’re coming to terms with it.”

“Were you?” Stiles asked after a minute.“Surprised, I mean?”

“Not as much as I thought I’d be, once I stopped going worst case scenario after Shawn brought you in.I don’t have a, what do they call it?A gaydar?But I’d had some gut feelings now and then the past few months.And no, the possibility never bothered me.”

Stiles frowned.Dad nudged him.

“Is there something else?”

“I don’t…I don’t think my Dad ever had that gut feeling.”

Haltingly, Stiles told him about Jackson as the kanima, trying to get him away from people, getting caught at the Jungle.Which was just all kinds of ironic now.

_You’re not gay._

_Wha— I could be!_

_Not dressed like that._

“He knew I was bullshitting him.And I was, I guess.For the most part.He never brought it up again.He was happy when I got a girlfriend.He probably never thought about that again.”

Dad had loved it when Stiles began dating.Even if it had been a were coyote who had no concept of what was actually appropriate.Dad began smiling like he hadn’t in years, insisting on dinner with both of them at least once a month, and he’d adored Malia.

“Stiles, even if he didn’t have a gut feeling, which I doubt, as his alternate universe self I can say with absolute certainty that he would have been just as proud of you as I am.And as long as they made you happy and treated you well, he would have loved any boyfriend you came home with, too.”

Stiles released a breath he’d been holding.

“Thanks, Dad.”

~

That night, he dreamed of the door.Lydia was there beside him, holding his hand as they stood before it.The vines pulled at him, ripped his skin, made blood run down in rivulets.He felt it and it hurt but it also didn’t.

“I don’t think I should open this,” Stiles told Lydia.

She squeezed his hand.

“I don’t know what’s behind it.That didn’t work out so great last time.”

Lydia turned to him and took his face in her hands.He brought his hand up and threaded his fingers through hers, leaning into her touch.She looked as she had the last morning he saw her.Thin and weary, lip split, and drowning in layers of his own clothes because hers had been torn and bloody.

She said something but the sound was gone.He shook his head.

“I can’t hear you.”

Lydia tilted her head to the side and repeated it, slowing down the words.Stiles watched her lips.He could only make out the first word.Something about animals.

Light blazed bright and hot, whiting out the woods and Lydia.When it faded Stiles was alone before the door.The strange symbol he’d been agonizing over glowed red, seeping into the wood and veining out like a disease.

The vines pulled him to the door.They snaked up his body, latched onto his arm, raised his hand to the knob.Blood dripped off his skin and stained the forest floor.He pulled back against them, closed his fingers into a fist.

“I’m not opening that!”

The vines gave a vicious, angry tug and—

~

Dad woke Stiles up early by dropping his clothes on him.

“Rise and shine.”

Stiles flailed until he came up out of the covers.It was still dark outside and Dad was dressed in uniform.He blinked, eyes darting around the room as the dream faded from all of his senses.Stiles sat up and looked down at his arms.No cuts.

What had he been dreaming about?

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“You’re coming to work with me today.”

“I am?”

“Yep.Get dressed or I’ll drag you there as is.And if that’s the case there might be some comments about what raggedy thing attached itself to your head.”

Dad gave him a pointed look and left.

By the time Stiles stumbled downstairs Dad was waiting by the door and shooed him out into the weak morning light.

“I am getting really vivid cabin flashbacks now,” Stiles muttered.

“Please, you’re coming to work with your old man.It shouldn’t be too traumatic for you.”

They pulled out of the driveway and Dad made his way to the gas station a few blocks over.Stiles kept glancing over to Dad who, despite the bags under his eyes and the slight redness in them, seemed far too normal and chipper considering how last night had gone.

Stiles himself felt like shit warmed over.Eyes gritty and sore, stomach sensitive and sore, emotional landscape in complete tatters.

Somewhat normal, now that he thought about it.

“Am I there all day?” Stiles asked.

“Yep.We’re cleaning out the old file room and need to check the solved files, make sure we recopy anything that’s damaged or faded.It’s a slow, tedious job.Perfect for keeping you out of trouble.”

Stiles waited but Dad didn’t add anything.

“What about the rest of my punishment?”

“Hmm?”

“Dad, I—I snuck out and went to a bar.Isn’t that, like, a grounding offense at least?”

Dad pulled up next to the gas pumps and turned the cruiser off.

“Do you want to be grounded?”

Stiles worked his mouth for a moment.“Well, no.”

“Good, because I don’t want to do that to you, either.”

“But you can’t really let that side, right?”

“I think you punished yourself enough lately.”Dad’s face was as solemn and serious as Stiles had ever seen it.“It’s a pattern you’ve got, although yesterday was worse than I’ve seen so far.”

As if on cue, Stiles’s stomach gave a twisting lurch.

“If this had been some normal teenage shenanigans, if you’d been sneaking out to drink and be irresponsible, then yes.You’d have been grounded for a long, long time.There would have been some hardcore lectures and highly creative punishments to help you understand how not okay those actions were.But that wasn’t your circumstance.” 

Dad reached over and rested his hand on Stiles’s head.

“We still have some heavy conversations ahead of us about last night.They may not be pleasant at all but I’m not going to punish you for being scared.You and I are going to work on getting through it.”

“Moving forward?”

“Exactly.”Dad ruffled his hair.“That being said, don’t ever sneak out again.I don’t deserve the fear that brings.”

Shame burned Stiles’s face.He nodded and extended his hand.

“I won’t, I promise.”

Dad’s serious expression melted into something much softer.He shook Stiles’s hand.

“Can I go get some coffee and stuff for today?I think we’re both going to need it,” Stiles said.

Dad gave him some money, with the caveat Stiles also get gatorade for himself to keep re-hydrating, and Stiles went into the store while Dad pumped gas.When he came back out Dad raised his eyebrows at the bulging bag and looked through it with thinly veiled judgement.

“This is basically nothing but sugar.”

Stiles glanced down at the bag of gatorades and snacks and then shrugged.

“It’ll keep me awake.”

Hopefully.

“That crap is terrible for you.”Dad started the cruiser.

“Three words: Secret.Cookie.Stash.” 

Stiles didn’t know if it was too soon to be allowed to joke with Dad, but he didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Dad goosed his side and Stiles squealed, almost upending their coffees.The next step was McDonalds and Dad handed him a hot container of oatmeal.

“Eat that first, it’ll be gentler on your stomach.”

They made it to the station without any more incidents.The nightshift was just taking off as morning shift was coming in.Shawn wasn’t there yet so Stiles dug through his bag and stuffed Shawn’s desk full of Twinkies.

Dad watched him with raised eyebrows and when Stiles opened his mouth he waved and said, “I don’t want to know.”

“Smart.”

Dad rolled his eyes.

“You’re gonna be at the empty desk today.”Dad pointed to a corner desk devoid of anything but a lamp and the squeaky chair with the bad wheel.It was also right in front of what was now Shawn and Mercer’s office, since Dad had moved into the Sheriff’s office.

He got Stiles set up with three boxes full of files.Dad gave him some pointers, a stack of blank information cards, and a handful of pens.He clapped Stiles’s shoulder.

“Have fun, kiddo.”

Stiles looked down at the overstuffed boxes and then up at the clock and sighed.There wasn’t enough sugar or coffee in the world to keep him awake for a full shift of busy work.

Shawn came in about an hour later.He made a b-line for Stiles after stopping at the break room for a bagel.

“Selena.How goes it?”

“Barney.It goes slowly.”

Stiles closed another file and shook the cramps out of his hand.He had ink stains on his fingers and his leg was starting to ache.He’d gone through maybe three files.This project was going to take years.

Shawn leaned his hip against the desk and, after a glance at Dad, said in an undertone, “Everything go okay last night?”

Stiles sighed.

“Yeah.We talked.Mostly I freaked out on him and threw up and…It wasn’t pretty.”Stiles caught Shawn’s worried looked and waved it away.“Don’t worry, we’re fine.There was a lot of manly crying and hugging.”

Stiles yawned and covered his mouth.Ugh.Coffee was not doing its job.

“Are you okay with everything?

Stiles shrugged.“I don’t know yet.Sort of.”

He still felt drained and out of sync.He really wished he could have slept in more, but he understood why Dad wanted him close by.It actually did make Stiles feel a bit better to be surrounded by people and noise and movement rather than the quiet stillness of home.

“This your punishment detail?”

Stiles looked over his shoulder.Dad was talking to Diaz over coffee and gesturing with his free hand.

“He’s just keeping an eye on me.I scared him pretty bad.”

Shawn clicked his tongue, sympathetic.“Well, maybe you being here and playing unpaid intern for a while will help with that.No safer place you could be than in a room full of deputies.”

Stiles huffed.“Yeah.Thanks for driving me home last night.And for talking to him first.”Stiles rolled the pen between his fingers, his face getting a bit red.“You were really nice about everything.”

Shawn lightly thumped his head to make him look up.

“You’re welcome, kid.I’m glad it turned out okay.But don’t do something like that again, alright?”

“I won’t.”

“Good.Have fun, intern.”

Shawn pushed off the desk and went to his office.Stiles went back to the reports.

Twenty minutes later Shawn made a strangled noise and Twinkies sailed out the door to pelt Stiles’s head.He hunched over laughing.

“Aw, Hale, come on!You’re ruining perfectly good snacks!” Mercer said.


	8. Red to Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia leaned in as if about to whisper in his ear, her eyes never leaving his in the mirror.
> 
> Follow the red, she said. Until it turns green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for super vague allusions to prostitution, a bloody nose, sibling feels, and a poor father faced with the prospect of giving The Talk to his kids.
> 
> Guys, I promise, I am slowly making my way through replying to all the wonderful and heartwarming comments you have been leaving. Seriously, those comments give me life and have helped me push through writers block, that epic Texas snowstorm, and freezing fingers to keep writing. I love each and every one of you so much for taking the time to let me know what you think about the story. <3<3<3

John wasn’t surprised when, by about ten o’clock, Stiles had fallen asleep at the desk, face buried in his arms and old public disturbance reports.He’d held out longer than John had expected him to.

“He’s looking pretty rough today,” Shawn commented over his coffee.

John allowed himself a moment to feel the weight of his exhaustion from the night before.He rested his elbows on the desk and dug the heels of his hands into his tired and gritty eyes.

“I really thought he was going to slip over the edge,” John confessed.“I feel like I barely brought him back over.”

“He’s suicidal?” Shawn took another look at Stiles, face morphed into worry.“I didn’t pick up on that last night.”

John sighed.

“No, I don’t think he was suicidal, but mentally?He had himself so twisted up over this it could have eventually led to that.He still loves the girl he lost and developing a crush on a boy just…He convinced himself he was a horrible person for the crush part.I think he’ll be okay with the rest of it in time, but he hasn’t even begun to really grieve her yet.Much less everyone else he’s lost.”

“Well, it’s not like anything else has happened in the meantime to distract him from it.”

John had to concede that.He glanced back at Stiles.His hand twitched in his sleep but he didn’t seem distressed.

“I’m about ninety-eight percent sure the crush is Derek,” John said.

His kid wasn’t exactly subtle.Derek even less so.The night of the marshmallow and water gun fight, he’d recognized a look pass between the boys.It was gone in an instant and Stiles had seemed oblivious afterwards.John realized now he’d panicked and buried it.

Which explained the sudden surge of cleaning and other distraction tactics, now that he was clued in.

“Derek’s been gone on him for a while now,” Shawn said.

“Did he have a crisis, too?”

Shawn shook his head.“Nah, he’s known he’s not into girls for a couple years.Stiles is his first non-celebrity crush, though.Somedays he’s pretty close to writing their initials in hearts all over his notebook.”

John chuckled.Derek hadn’t been subtle, either, but he’d been aware of his own crush for far longer and so had John.John had recognized interest in him the day after Stiles was attacked in the alley, when the kids brought brownies to the station.Derek hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off Stiles, completely besotted while they were handing containers out.

Derek still looked at Stiles that way, but there was a new depth to it.He’d done what he could to save Stiles at the pond, something John would forever be grateful for, and in the time since then had fashioned himself into a worried guardian of sorts, never that far from Stiles when they were hanging out, always willing to take any pain Stiles was in when he got that pinched look around his eyes.

Derek was a good kid.John had no doubt he’d be good for Stiles if something more than what they already had blossomed.If Stiles ever let it.

John let out a breath and wished, for the countless time, that Claudia was still there.John had tried to say all the things he thought she might have said last night, desperately reaching for her voice and steadiness as Stiles fell apart in front of him. 

He wanted to be a safe option for his kids.Mischief was pretty good about coming to him when anything was truly wrong.Stiles, though.Stiles reverted back to his old patterns when push came to shove.John knew that was another survival response, something so deeply ingrained in Stiles that undoing it wasn’t going to happen in half a year, but it still burned that Stiles had decided to stew in misery and self hatred rather than come to John so they could figure it out.

How would Claudia have handled this? 

“Thank you for helping last night.And for keeping me from blindly reacting,” John said.“There for a minute I felt like I was going to fly off the handle, thinking he’d gone out drinking.”

John was not happy with himself about that.He hadn’t even stopped to think things through, or take in any explanations or evidence until he’s made Stiles take the breathalyzer.He’d just gone straight to fear, that Stiles was self-medicating and putting himself in danger to dull the pain, and then skipped over to anger.

He had to be better than that from now on.

“But you didn’t.And he knows that you still love and want him, even though he scared the shit out of you last night.You got over the first hurdle.Good job.”Shawn clasped his shoulder.“Now you gotta get ready for the next hurdle.”

John groaned.“Which is?”

“A much more comprehensive safe sex talk than you probably had planned.”

“Oh, god.I don’t think he’s ready for that yet.”John wasn’t either.

“Probably not, but you should be so you can have the talk when he is.”

“Yeah.”

When John had told Stiles he’d had to figure out everything for himself when it came to girls, sex had also been included in that.John’s mother had died by then, which left only his father and Gary.His father’s advice had basically been, _don’t get her pregnant_ , with no tips or explanations on how to avoid that, or things like STDs, or anything actually helpful when it came to sex, much less relationships.

John never even tried to ask Gary.By then he knew better than to approach his brother.The odds were even between Gary laughing in his face or smacking him around for bothering him.

He was going to have to come up with the talk for both his kids from scratch. 

John’s phone rang so he was able to put off that overwhelming thought for the moment. 

“John, it’s Rafe.You got a minute?”

“Yeah, sure do, what’s up,” he said.

Shawn snorted into his coffee.Apparently he’d sounded more eager to change subjects than he’d hoped.

“I’ve come across something you’ll want to see.I’ve found an abandoned stash house the cartel used to house shipments before distribution and they left something behind.”

“What’s the address?”He wrote it down on a notepad.“Is this something I can bring CSU in on or just those in the know?”

“Those in the know for now,” Rafe said.“I’m not sure what to make of this yet.We might need Stiles, too.”

John glanced over at his son, still fast asleep.“Let me take a look first.He had a rough night last night.”

“I wondered about the radio silence.Normally I can barely read and respond before I have five more texts from him, all about separate things.”

John smirked.That sounded about right.

“We can be there in about ten.”

“Sounds good.”

Shawn raised an eyebrow in question.

“Rafe’s got something for me to look at.I’m gonna take Klein and Diaz to meet him.Will you keep an eye on Stiles?Maybe take him to get something to eat when he wakes up.”

“Sure.Is it okay if he knows about this?”

“Yeah, let him know.Rafe said we might need to bring him in on it.I want him to stay close here for now.He could use a little less excitement for a bit.”

Shawn made a face.“He’ll just spend that time worrying about you.”

“I trust you can keep him sufficiently distracted.”

“I have a few ideas.”

John briefed Diaz and Klein before be grabbed his keys and stopped by Stiles.He was in a deep sleep, despite being hunched over in an uncomfortable position in the middle of the station.His face twitched and he murmured something too low for John to catch.Hopefully the dreams were nothing but good for once.

He placed a quick kiss on Stiles’s head and followed his deputies out. 

~

John spotted Rafe’s vehicle outside the abandoned warehouse as he pulled up.The whole area was due to be bulldozed at some point.The warehouses had once been part of a major shipping company that tanked in the nineties and then sat derelict for over a decade.They attracted all kinds of activity from homeless squatters, to kids up to no good, to drug dens, to illegal raves.The whole strip of buildings was a permanent fixture of tetanus and enough layers of bodily fluids that John wanted to boil any part of himself that came into contact with a solid surface.

John had spent much time over many cups of coffee with the fire chief commiserating on how this was one place that would benefit from getting burned down.

Rafe waved them in and pulled one of the side doors open.

“So this was one of the places Stiles had marked for me to check out.He said he never got around to casing it himself, but thought it was a hotspot for Delmonico’s crew,” Rafe said as he led them inside. 

Inside, the warehouse had been stripped of machinery and anything valuable, but there was evidence of use all around in the form of beer bottles, cans, a couple well-worn mattresses, and some repurposed furniture scattered around.Graffiti scrawled and overlapped each other on all the surfaces.Other trash and debris that had blown in piled up in the corners around dismantled crates and boxes.

“It was recently abandoned, by the smell of it.And it’s probably a good thing he never tried to investigate.I don’t know how good of a witch he is, but I think he might have run into a lot of resistance if he’d tried to come here alone.”

Rafe led them to a back room that was partially blocked by a large slab of concrete.It was entirely out of place and, with the way the hallway was shaped, John couldn’t fathom how anything other than something supernatural could have wedged it into place.Rafe did some shifting to make the entrance a little bigger.On something that probably weighed a good ton.

“Showoff,” John said.

Rafe huffed behind him.

John clicked on his flashlight and swept it through the inner room. 

“Oh, hell.”

Unlike the rest of the warehouse, this room held neither evidence of partying, squatters, or graffiti taggers.It was covered in spell work.Intense spell work, way more intricate and advanced than the protections Stiles had put on the house.There were empty crates and evidence of heavy computer equipment and hookups to the grid that had been stripped clean.

A large crack traveled from the floor to the ceiling in one corner.It was a jagged thing, almost like an earthquake had hit it.It cut through the spell work which, if he had been listening to Stiles right, meant that all the spells laid on this room were basically severed.

“This looks more sophisticated than what Delmonico runs,” John said.“He doesn’t have the vision for anything like this.Let alone the brain cells.”

“I can’t make heads or tails of any of this,” Rafe said.“But I’m more concerned with what I can still smell.It’s a, um.I smelled it in Mexico.At the camp.It’s sticky and sweet.I don’t know what it is but they smeared some of it on me the night of the full moon.”

“What did it do?”

Rafe’s expression darkened.“I don’t know.That whole night is a blur.The next morning all I could smell was blood and hot sand and motorcycle exhaust.This is the first time I’ve smelled it since then.”

“Can you find the source?” Klein asked.

Rafe looked around and inhaled deeply.Then walked around and did it again and again.

“I think it’s in the paint,” he said.“That smell is everywhere, it’s the only thing that makes sense.But when I go up to it—“

He tried to touch one of the sigils and it repelled his hand.

“Mountain ash?” John said.

“Fucking gothic fairy dust,” Rafe muttered.

John bit down on a laugh.

“Wait.If the cartel runs with werewolves, why would they mix so much mountain ash and magic on this room in particular?”

“That’s a good question. Another one I have no answer to.If that crack hadn’t upset the integrity of the spell, I wouldn’t be able to step foot in here.And I don’t think anyone else here would be able to, either,” Rafe said.

“The only reason I can think for someone to put this much effort into, what, a warding?They were trying to protect something,” Diaz said as she moved the crate remnants around.

“Or trap something,” said Klein.He gestured for them to come over to the wall opposite from the crack.He kicked at the base of a large, thick pole.Something metallic clinked together.

John and Diaz added their lights to Klein’s.At the base of the pole were a pair of handcuffs with sigils etched into the metal.Behind the pole were long scratches clawed into the wall.From fingernails.

“Someone,” John said, his throat tightening up. 

~

Stiles was dreaming.He knew he was dreaming, a hundred percent.And he didn’t know how to get out of it.

He was faced with a long row of doors.They started off attached to a hallway with walls that slowly faded away until the doors were hanging in thin air and disappeared, winding deep into the preserve.The thing about these doors were that most of them were open.

Stiles wandered past several doors and peeked inside.The first looked out on the Beacon Hills Memorial lobby.Stiles paused and cautiously stuck his head inside. 

_Do you like superheroes?_

Stiles craned his neck around and stepped inside.The hospital was moderately busy, a good dozen people camped out waiting for someone or waiting to get seen.Stiles stopped at the end of a row of chairs by the wall.

_Yeah, I like Superman._

_Cool!I like Batman.Here._

Stiles watched himself open the beat up, Batman backpack he’d had in second grade and pull out his action figures.Dad had let him take them when they took Mom to the hospital after she burned her hand cooking.Later, they would realize it was one of the first signs of her dementia.She’d forgotten to use mitts to take the pot roast out of the oven.

Stiles’s younger self handed his Scott a Superman figurine.Scott had been waiting for Melissa to finish up her last duties on shift so they could go home.The two of them dropped to the floor and played Batman versus Superman underneath the chairs, their feet sticking out while they made the figurines hop and fly and fight each other.

Stiles backed out of the door and their conversation faded as he stepped back into the hallway.He looked back and forth down the hallway.The doors were endless and all memories.His feet moved forward without his permission.

The next door opened into the cemetery.

Stiles stepped right back out again.

He had no idea if these doors were in chronological order or not, but nothing nice ever happened in the cemetery. 

Stiles kept walking down the hallway.Other doors he passed led to memories he glimpsed on his way by.The first time he rode a bike without training wheels.The incident with the salamander and Melissa’s salad.The moment he fell in love with Lydia.Dad teaching him to drive the jeep.

Then the walls began fading out and the woods faded in.The doors led to darker memories.The hospital rooftop with Mom.The night Scott got bit.The night he hallucinated Dad at Lydia’s party.

He passed those door by without going in.There was nothing in there he wanted to see again.But he pulled even with one door and his feet stopped.He couldn’t go forward.Couldn’t go back.Stiles turned toward the door.It was closed.Red marked the door, veiny and pulsing with light.Stiles’s hand reached out for it—

~

Stiles came up out of the dream with a sharp inhale and nearly leapt out of the chair, as well.

“Whoa, easy, kid.”

The dream faded into the station and Stiles found Shawn steadying him back to sitting down.

“Did I finish the files?”

Shawn chuckled, though his eyes were still worried.“Not even close.”

Stiles looked down at the desk.Papers were stacked in front of him, the same one he’d been working on about half done.

“Come on.You got ink on your face, kid.Go get cleaned up.”

Shawn gave him a nudge towards the bathrooms.When Stiles got there he splashed water on his face and scrubbed at the smear on cheek.His motions slowed as parts of the dream came back to him.The red pulsing symbol.The door closed that he didn’t want to open but something kept compelling him to.

Stiles winced as a sharp ache stabbed behind his eyes.He rubbed at it and tried to will it away.Everything in his head was still sore from all the damn crying he’d done last night, he didn’t want a headache on top of it.But the pain just kept rising.

“I am not doing this today,” Stiles muttered. 

He massaged at his temples.The image of the door was fresh and clear.And part of him felt if he closed his eyes for longer than a second he could step right back into that hallway before the door.Probably open it.

Stiles didn’t want to do that.He just wanted to rest.Barring that, he’d settle for bugging Shawn to see if he could get him to crack in some way.Maybe he could wheedle Dad into giving him some Tylenol, too.

Stiles left the bathroom and went to Dad’s office but he wasn’t there.Stiles looked around but he wasn’t in the bullpen or the break room either.And his keys weren’t in his empty coffee cup.Stiles stared at it for a moment.Dad wasn’t at the station.

“Hey.”

Stiles turned.Shawn was in the doorway.

“You’re Dad went out to see Agent McCall for a bit.He’ll be back after while.”

“Oh.Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, they’re just checking on something.He didn’t want to wake you, he said you needed the rest.”

Stiles made a face.“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.”Shawn gestured for him to follow.“Come on, it’s lunchtime and I’m starving.You want to hit up the diner on Fifth?”

Stiles didn’t, but his stomach decided to growl and Shawn smirked.

“I’ll take that as a yes.Hey, Mercer!I’m taking lunch.You want me to bring you anything?”

“Nah, I’m good!Got some of my wife’s chili, she made a big batch!”

As they walked out of the station Shawn grimaced.“I have to patrol with that man later.I’m gonna suffocate from noxious fumes.”

Stiles snorted.

“Good chili, huh?”

“Only for him.I think his sense of smell died when he was a child.”

They went to the diner and got burgers and milkshakes.The headache did ease up once he started eating, and his appetite that had been absent for a while came back.

“So, I got a proposition for you,” Shawn said through a mouthful of curly fries.

“I would say I don’t swing that way but I guess we found out that last night I kinda do.”

Shawn choked a little even though the line was delivered tentatively instead of with Stiles’s usual suggestive sarcasm.Shawn raised his eyebrow at Stiles, his mouth pursed like he was holding back a smile.

“Well, if you can joke about it you must be feeling a smidge better about things.”

Stiles shrugged.“Maybe.Trying it out.”

He hadn’t had a lot of time to think about last night but he knew he didn’t want it to be an issue.Even if the Lydia portion of it still was.Might always be.

“Please, do that with your father somewhere I can see.The spit-take would be epic.”

It was Stiles’s turn to choke and his face flushed.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m that okay with it yet.”

“Well, I’m sure by the time you are you’ll have plenty of terrible jokes stored up ready to use.”

“Probably.”Stiles wiped his chin with a napkin.“So.You were propositioning me, deputy?”

Stiles deserved the stinging thump on the side of his head.

“Your training,” Shawn said.“We should talk to your Dad about starting it again.Melissa said if we started you off with some slow repetition moves without any force it would be easier on your ribs and help build your muscle memory.By the time you get back to a hundred percent maybe you’ll have a decent chance of lasting more than a few minutes in the ring against me.”

“You wouldn’t last one if I used magic, too,” Stiles said.

“Ooh, the boy’s getting cocky.We can put that to the test, too.Make it interesting when we get to that point.Let’s see what your Dad says about it and start making some plans.Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, nodding.“That sounds great.”

Shawn’s cell rang as they finished lunch.Stiles took the trash out to a nearby dumpster while he answered.No one had even mentioned training since the Lahey incident.Stiles hadn’t thought twice about it.With his ribs still healing, along with a lot of other parts of him, everything had slowed down until recently.His ribs were feeling a lot better.Of course, he still had to have a few more checkups with Melissa before she would be satisfied giving him an all clear.

Maybe by the time he was ready for the ring match his magic would be straightened out, too.He hoped so.It would be exciting to add that element into fighting and get better at it. 

Although, Dad would probably have some objections because of the knife.Stiles swallowed down the bitterness that crept back up.He had to get his hands on something as protection until his magic was back where it should be. 

When he got back into the cruiser, Shawn was finished with his call.

“Looks like we gotta go make a pit stop before we go back to the station.”

“Did Mercer decide against the chili after all?”

Shawn sighed.“I am not that lucky.No, that was Melissa.I guess Scott had a pretty bad episode a bit ago, she’s gonna make him stay in bed for the rest of the day, do some breathing treatments.We’re gonna go get the little terror.”

As they headed over that way, Stiles said, “Hey, Shawn?Don’t say anything to Mini-Me about stuff from last night, okay?I’m not quite ready to let him know.”

Shawn glanced at him but inclined his head.“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thanks.”

And that was all they said on the matter.

Mini-Stiles was still up in Scott’s room when they arrived.Stiles went on up to get him while Shawn chatted with Melissa.The door was open as he approached but he didn’t hear anything from inside.When he poked his head in, Scotty was asleep and his breathing a little labored.Mini-Stiles was sitting at the end of the bed, Batman in one hand and a trebuchet in the other.His face was downcast.

“Hey, short stack.Scotty okay?”

“Yeah,” Mini-Stiles.“He just had a bad attack.”

Stiles patted his shoulder and went to see Scott, who was deep asleep.Stiles ruffled his hair but he didn’t even blink.Stiles hated seeing Scott like this.It happened so much when they were young and it never got easier to see, even if he got better at learning how to help him.

One thing Stiles never regretted about Scott’s bite was the fact that it cleared up his asthma.It was hard now, seeing Scott so tiny again and struggling with it.He knew how Mini-Stiles was feeling.

“Come on, dude.He’s gonna be okay.”

He grabbed Mini-Stiles’s backpack and they went downstairs.Mini-Stiles was pretty subdued, but he perked up when he saw Shawn.

“Hey, big guy.You ready to come back to the station and hang with us for a while?”

“Sure.”

Shawn knuckled Mini-Stiles’s head and plucked the trebuchet from his hands.“I think I’ll hold onto that for a bit.When we get to the station you can fling marshmallows at Mercer for a bit.”

“Okay.”

Shawn frowned down at Mini-Stiles.He exchanged a look with Stiles, who shrugged, and they thanked Melissa before leaving.

“You doing okay there, bud?” Shawn asked when they piled in. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.We stayed up late playing video games.”

He didn’t look sleepy, but Stiles recognized the diversion tactic.He also wasn’t all over Stiles, seeing how he was since the last he heard Stiles was sick.Stiles was kind of grateful for that, since he wasn’t eager to come up with any lies about it, but it also didn’t sit well.

“Can we stop at the gas station before we go back?I forgot to get gummy worms,” Stiles said.

Shawn’s eyebrows climbed to his hair.

“You think you need any more sweets after buying out half the shelves this morning?”

“Gummy worms are important,” Stiles said with a not-so-subtle head jerk towards his younger self. 

Shawn glanced between the two of them and swallowed some exasperation.

“Sure, I guess I should put some more gas in her anyway.Then we gotta get back, my break is almost over.”

Stiles and his younger self went into the store while Shawn stayed by the gas pumps.The tank had been just off full. 

“You want sweet ones or sour ones?” Stiles said, picking one of each bag off the shelf.

Mini-Stiles shrugged.“I don’t know.Not really feeling worms right now.”

“Yeah?You thinking chocolate or maybe donuts?”

Mini-Stiles shrugged.

“Okay, well, you pick something out.I’m gonna get some more Gatorade for me.”

Mini-Stiles mumbled something and poked at the candy, uninterested.Stiles went a couple aisles over to the cooler section against the back wall.He traveled down, bypassing the energy drinks he would love to get his hands on, but Shawn or Dad would only take them away.He made that mistake while trying to catch up on schoolwork after Lahey.

Dad allowed two cups of coffee in the morning but he poured out the energy drinks and told Stiles, in no uncertain terms, that if he thought he needed them on top of coffee then he obviously needed rest more. 

Dad could be so infuriating about that kind of thing.

The door dinged behind him as he looked through the selection.They didn’t have any blue raspberry, which was a travesty.After he picked out a couple other, less superior, flavors, he heard Mini-Stiles snarl, “Fuck you!”

Stiles whirled around, dropping the gatorade bottles, in time to see his younger self deck another kid a few years older than him and take him down to the floor.

“Hey!”

Stiles rushed over and got his arms around Mini-Stiles, who was flailing around like a wildcat.The other kid hit back and got Mini-Stiles in the face. 

Stiles shoved at the other kid and sent a bust of magic that pushed him away.Something popped in Stiles’s head, but he didn’t even feel it after a moment.The kid skidded away across the floor and smacked into the register counter.Stiles backed away, his other arm latched around Mini-Stiles, until they hit the back of the cooler and he shifted them around to put himself between Mini-Stiles and the other kid. 

Thankfully, the other kid wasn’t whipping back around to take a chunk out of them like so many things Stiles had fought before.

“Stop it,” Stiles said as his younger self tried to get free and go back in for another round.The other kid groaned and picked himself up while the clerk came around, flapping his hands.

“What the hell is going on?Hooligans!”

Stiles ignored the clerk and turned Mini-Stiles around.“Hey, are you okay?”

There was a red spot on his cheek that might bruise up later, but his expression was dark and he had angry tears in his eyes.His hands were still balled up into fists. 

“Hey, look at me.”

Then Shawn was suddenly there and in the middle of everything.The clerk gestured to him.

“These kids started fighting in here, they knocked over a display of Cheetos!”

Shawn looked over to them but Stiles raised a hand and said, “We’re fine.”

So Shawn helped the other kid up and started talking to him.Stiles took the opportunity to get his younger self to look up at him.

“Hey, what happened?Are you okay?”

Mini-Stiles shrugged away but Stiles didn’t let him get far. 

“Come on, talk to me, man.”

“I’m fine!” Mini-Stiles snapped but when he looked up the anger left and became worry.“What happened to you?”

“You’re the one that got hit,” Stiles said.But then he registered a dripping wetness on his face and covered his nose.His hand came away bloody.But it was worse than the last time.He pinched his nose and tried to clean it up but the blood kept coming.

“Get some napkins,” he said, but it came out as a thick, _Geb be sub nabkids._

Mini-Stiles leapt up and ran to the hot food counter and grabbed a whole stack.He shoved them at Stiles and Stiles tried to mop himself up. 

“I didn’t think you got hit,” Mini-Stiles said.

Stiles didn’t answer.There was too much blood in his mouth.

And Lydia was standing in front of him.

She stared down at Stiles, head tilted to the side, expression expectant.She knelt down in front of him and reached out as if she was going to touch his face.There was a pull in the middle of Stiles’s chest.His eyes fluttered and between blinks he saw the doors in the middle of the preserve.The one with the symbol on it in red.

_You always figure it out._

“Hey, kid.Look at me.”

A hand, much bigger and rougher, took his face and tilted it to the side and back.Lydia’s image faded out and Shawn’s faded in.

“I’m fine,” Stiles said.“I guess I got smacked, I’m good, though.”

He kept mopping up his face while Shawn looked over Mini-Stiles.“What happened?”

Mini-Stiles looked at Stiles and then down at the floor.Before he could speak the bell above the door dinged.

“Ay!That one’s running!” the clerk said.

The other kid had taken off at a fast clip.Shawn rose up to look but he was gone so he held a hand out to Stiles.“You think you can stand?”

Stiles took it and Shawn pulled him to his feet.His vision swam a bit but then it righted itself.He switched out the napkins.

“I’m gonna—“ he gestured to the bathroom.

“Yeah, get cleaned up.I’ll figure out what happened here.”

Stiles retreated to the bathroom and did his best to mop up.The blood had sort of stopped by then but it had gotten on the front of his shirt.He scrubbed at it the best he could.When he looked back in the mirror Lydia was there again.

“Why is that damn door so important?” he asked, disregarding how crazy he felt to talk to a ghost.“What’s behind it?”

Lydia leaned in as if about to whisper in his ear, her eyes never leaving his in the mirror.

 _Follow the red,_ she said. _Until it turns green._

“Green?” he asked.And it came back to him.The threads on his crime board.The conversation he had with Lydia when they were trying to find Barrow, the bomber.“You want me to solve this.Like a case?”

Lydia’s mouth curved into that proud, challenging smile.

_You’re the one who always figures it out._

~

There was nothing broken in the gas station and since the other kid had run off there was nothing left to do, after cleaning up, than to go back to the station.

“How’s the face?” Shawn asked as they got back in the cruiser. 

“Fine.Just got popped.Doesn’t really hurt.”

Shawn checked his face and his eyes over, made sure he didn’t have a concussion.Mini-Stiles was in the back, arms crossed, still hadn’t said what started the fight.Shawn had made him pick up all the stuff he’d knocked over during the fight, and apologize to the clerk, so he was out of temper and highly disgruntled.

“Alright.We’ll go back to the station and you guys settled there.Then we’re gonna talk about what happened back there.”

Stiles didn’t need to turn around to know that his younger self was slouching as low as he could get in the seat.

It was a quiet and tense ride back to the station.Stiles drank some of his gatorade to get rid of the bloody taste in his mouth.He turned over Lydia’s words in his head.The dreams with the door.The symbol.He rubbed at his temple and tried to think around the headache.

He knew the symbol from somewhere.It made him uncomfortable to the extreme.Afraid, even.But he didn’t remember reading about it in any of the books he’d had.It had never been part of anything he’d studied for a case or a monster problem he’d tackled in his world.If it had been he would have remembered more about it.

If he was supposed to treat this like a case then he needed to spread out and work on it.But he had to wait because Shawn deposited them in Dad’s office with a stern, “Stay here,” while he left for a few minutes.

Mini-Stiles scuffed his shoes against the floor and then went to plop down on the couch.

Stiles snagged one of Dad’s spare notepads and a pen before he joined him.Mini-Stiles sniffled and drew his feet up on the couch.Stiles watched him for a few minutes.The symbol kept pressing on his mind but he decided to push it away for now.Stiles could work the symbol later.He scribbled something on the notepad and slid it and the pen across the couch cushion to Mini-Stiles.

Mini-Stiles ignored it for a moment but curiosity got the better of him and he looked and huffed, not quite willing to laugh at the badly drawn boxing stick figure asking, _r u ok Rocky?_

Mini-Stiles took the notepad and pen and worked on it for a minute.He slid it back over.

An equally bad drawing of an angry Godzilla stomped on tiny stick figures underneath, _People are stupid._

Stiles drew the bat-signal and what might have passed for Batman if the superhero had the body of a bloated tree stump.

_Some of them can be.Not all of them._

Mini-Stiles sighed.The notepad came back with an angry face covered in pimples.Or maybe bees, it was hard to tell.

_A lot of them are._

Stiles wrote, _Was he mean?_

_Yeah.And stupid._

_Stupid is as stupid does._

Mini-Stiles actually smiled for a moment.

_Ok Forest._

Stiles drew a running stick figure in a ball cap.Mini-Stiles giggled.

“How’s your face?”

Mini-Stiles prodded at his cheek.“Stings a little, but it’s okay.How’s your nose?”

“Not bad.If we can get you an ice pack that might not bruise up too much.”

Shawn opened the door and came in.He closed it behind him and looked about as disappointed and stern as he had last night.He pulled Dad’s chair around so he was in front of them. 

“What started the fight back there?”

Mini-Stiles refused to answer.He looked down at the floor and picked at a hole in the knee of his jeans. 

"I'm not sure," Stiles said. "I only caught the end of it when the other one hit him and I separated them."

"That's when you got hit?"

"Yeah," Stiles lied. "Didn't even realize it happened until after."

“Okay. So, how did it start?" Shawn looked expectantly at Mini-Stiles. "You can either tell me or we can wait for your Dad to get back and you can tell him.”

Mini-Stiles groaned.“Do we have to tell Dad?”

“Well, you punched another kid, he’s gonna hear about it anyway.Not to mention he’s going to want to know why you have a shiner.”

Mini-Stiles grumbled and squirmed in his seat, but he had a stubborn set to his jaw.

“It was about me, wasn’t it?” Stiles asked.The wide-eyed look that came and left just as quick confirmed it.Shawn raised his eyebrow so Stiles shrugged and said, “Everyone’s got a theory about what went down in the preserve.Most don’t reflect well on me.He gets upset about them.”

“They’re not true,” Mini-Stiles said with force.“And you just lay down and take them and you shouldn’t have to.”

Stiles sighed.

“What did the other kid say?” Shawn asked.

Mini-Stiles shook his head. 

“Did you know what it was they called me, or just that it was probably mean?” Stiles asked.

“The second one,” Mini-Stiles said. 

Stiles pushed the notepad back over to him.

“You can write it down if you don’t want to say it.”

Mini-Stiles took the notepad and fiddled with the pen for a minute.Then he scribbled more than a few things down and shoved it forward to Shawn.Shawn read it.His eyes got wide and then his face went pinched.

“That’s what he said?”

Mini-Stiles nodded.Shawn sighed.

“Alright.Your Dad’s gonna be back soon so you two just stay put in here and we’ll deal with this then.”

Then he left and took the notebook with him.Damn it.Stiles went and got another one from Dad’s desk and settled back on the couch.Mini-Stiles glanced back and forth at him while Stiles started jotting things down on the symbol.

“You’re not gonna ask what he said?” Mini-Stiles asked after a while.

Stiles shrugged.“It’s probably something I’ve already heard.You’re right, lots of kids are stupid and mean.”

Stiles reached over and knuckled his younger self’s head.

“Are you mad I punched him?” he asked in a small voice. 

“I’m not mad,” Stiles said.“That’d be a bit hypocritical of me.I used to get in fights sometimes when I was your age, too.”

“What for?”

“Jackson being Jackson.Kids picking on Scott.Most of them stopped after a while.I never exactly fought fair.But I had to stop, too.”

Mini-Stiles glanced up at him, head tilted.“Why?”

Old, sour, familiar guilt rose up in Stiles.

“All it did was make Dad sad and tired, having to deal with me when the school called him about it.That, and it got me stuck with a therapist I hated.I wanted to stop being a problem for Dad but I couldn’t help it.Some of the anger was just run of the mill anger issues, but some of it was not having the right medication for the ADHD, we had to try a lot of different ones before we found a good balance.Eventually we did.Didn’t stop the first problem but I just had to learn not to fight over everything.”

And get sneakier about how he retaliated.That probably wouldn’t be the best advice, though. 

Mini-Stiles clenched his hands.

“I feel angry all the time.”

“Like Godzilla?”

He nodded.“I don’t understand why you’re not.After everything that’s happened you should be.Especially when people start saying stuff.”

Stiles swallowed.“Look, I—“

Mini-Stiles socked his shoulder, hard.

“If you say it was your fault I’m gonna do that again,” he threatened.

“Well, it was.”Stiles blocked his tiny fist.“Look, I’ve made a lot of dumb choices and Lahey was one of them.If I’d been smarter the whole thing in the preserve may not have happened.”

“So?It happened.You can still be angry about it, especially the dumb people part.”

“I am angry, just not in the same way.I’ve got too much else going on in my head to be like that for people who don’t matter, okay?”

“Is that why you stopped sleeping much?” Mini-Stiles asked, accusatory.

Stiles shot him an exasperated look.“You haven’t either if you’ve noticed.”

Mini-Stiles threw his hands up with a hard expelled sigh, frustrated, and went to Dad’s chair to sit and spin angrily.Stiles rubbed at his forehead and turned his attention back to the symbol.But now Stiles’s head was focussed on Mini-Stiles and the way he kept squeaking the chair and huffing, not to mention the headache getting worse behind his eyes.

Stiles gave up after a while and stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes to block out the light.He didn’t sleep.He kind of wanted to, but between the headache and the thoughts between the spikes of pain it just wasn’t going to happen.

Eventually the squeaky spinning stopped and he heard Mini-Stiles scuff across the floor back to the couch.He stood over Stiles for a minute and poked him.

“I wanna lay down, too.”

Stiles turned on his side and scooted against the back of the couch.There wasn’t a lot of room on that thing to begin with, but Mini-Stiles shoved and settled down on what there was at the other end and threw his legs over Stiles’s.

“You’re a brat,” Stiles murmured.

“You’re a dumb ass,” Mini-Stiles retorted.

It was about as close to an apology as either of them were equipped to make to each other.

~

Dad came back to the station hours later, almost at the end of his shift.Stiles had actually fallen asleep at some point, but hadn’t dreamed of the door again.Instead, he’d been side by side with Lydia, the two of them sitting on a fallen tree trunk somewhere between memory and another reality.

Stiles held her hand and wished he could say everything he wanted to tell her.But there was too much to say and not enough time to say it there, and all he wanted was to soak in her presence before it was gone again.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing you,” is what he settled on.

She squeezed his hand between both of hers and tilted her head back, eyes closed, as the wind played with the loose strands of her hair.She was so beautiful, even at the end of her life at the end of their world.

Stiles wished they’d had more time.

He woke from the dream with tears on his face.He could still feel the weight and warmth of her hand in his and pressed it to his chest until the feeling faded away.He noticed then that he was alone on the couch but there was a murmur of voiced by Dad’s desk.Dad was there with Mini-Stiles, talking in low tones.

“He’s ours, remember?We’re supposed to protect him,” Mini-Stiles said.

“You can’t go around punching everyone, though.That’s not the way to deal with this,” Dad answered.

“What was I supposed to do?No one stops, otherwise.”

Dad sighed and Stiles closed his eyes again, pretending to sleep. 

“I know it’s hard for you, Mischief.It’s not fair or right and it hurts, but lashing out at them is wrong.It won’t prove anything other than that you’re a hothead they can rile up.And they’ll keep doing it to get a rise out of you if you let them.”

“So, what, just ignore it?” Mini-Stiles said, incredulous.“That is stupid.”

“What do you think would happen if I took a swing at everyone who said something I didn’t like about me?”

There was a pause.

“You’d lose your job.”

“Yes, at the very least.”

“Well, I don’t have to worry about a job.”

“No, but there are still consequences,” Dad warned.“Look, you’re in a difficult spot, Mischief.I know that and I understand it, I do.There is a time to use your fists when you don’t have any other options, but before it gets to that point you have other choices to make.Using your words.Walking away.Getting help.Stiles was right there in the store.Shawn was just outside.Either one of them could have stepped in before it turned to a fight, or walked out with you.”

Mini-Stiles expelled a sigh.“That stop them.”

“No, probably not.But you need to get a handle on some discipline and self control.”There was movement and the chair squeaked.“I know you’re trying to protect him.”

“He won’t protect himself, someone has to.”

“He does protect himself, Mischief.Sometimes a little too well.”

“Well, he still thinks everything is his fault and I’m sick of it.His head is being stupid about it and I don’t know how to get him to stop it.”

Stiles’s face lit up with embarrassment as Dad said, “I know.But you have to remember that he’s been through a lot and it’s going to take time for him to work through it all.Especially the guilt.He carries a lot of that and he feels really guilty that you went through that with him.”

“I helped save him, though!If I hadn’t been there—“

“Shh.There’s no use in looking at the if’s and maybe’s, Mischief.We’ll never know the answer to those.But we know how it really ended and now it’s not a matter of wishing things had gone differently, it’s a matter of dealing with what actually happened and moving forward with it.That means keeping your temper around other people and talking with the therapist.Okay?”

Mini-Stiles groaned. 

“I know,” Dad said. 

There was quiet for a few minutes.Then paper rustled.

“What did the words mean?” Mini-Stiles asked.

Dad made a noise in the back of his throat.

“It’s an ugly way to try and make someone feel bad about themselves.”

Stiles practically heard his younger self roll his eyes.

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out.I just don’t know what it’s supposed to mean.”Mini-Stiles lowered his voice.“It has to do with sex, right?”

“Yeah,” Dad said after a long pause.“What do you know about sex?”

“It’s where babies come from.There’s a lot of pamphlets about it at the hospital. What? I got bored and read them.”

Dad cleared his throat and Stiles felt bad about the struggle he was having.His Dad hadn’t had an easy time giving Stiles that particular talk either.

“Okay.Well.Um, sex is something people— older people— do with each other for a lot of reasons, but babies can result from it.It’s something special to share with someone you love.But people can also twist it up and use it as a means to hurt each other, or to imply things about someone else to hurt or embarrass or shame them.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah, kiddo, it is.”

“He doesn’t believe that stuff, though, right?”

Dad said, softly, “I hope not.But if he does then that’s one more thing I’ll help him work through.”

“I hate this.”Mini-Stiles whispered it.

“I know.Me, too.”

Stiles hated that they were talking about him like that, but more than that he hated that it was even a worry.He didn’t believe the stupid rumors.How could he?None of them were true.Just stupid people running their stupid mouths.Neither Dad nor Mini-Stiles needed to worry extra about things Stiles didn’t believe about himself.

“Alright, I think it’s time we go home.You go and apologize to Shawn for misbehaving.”

Mini-Stiles sighed, put upon.“Yes, sir.”

After he left Dad moved around the office and then came to the couch.He knelt down and rested a hand on Stiles’s head.

“I know you’re awake, kiddo.”

Stiles moved his arm from his eyes and opened them.Dad looked exhausted, the lines around his eyes more pronounced.

“I don’t believe that crap, Dad.I promise I don’t.”

“Good.”He patted Stiles’s cheek, though he didn't look fully convinced.“Come on, I think we could all benefit from turning in early tonight.We can talk more about what happened in the morning.”

They swung by McDonalds and got dinner and ate quick once they got home.After Stiles settled in bed he spent some time staring out the window.Sleep didn’t come.So he turned on his bedside lamp, snagged his notebook, and wrote.

_Lydia,_

_Please tell me the dream tonight wasn’t you saying goodbye.As hard as it is, I’m not ready for you to stop haunting me yet._

_—S. S._


	9. Aggressive Caring Maneuvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Older-Stiles turned on the path and went through the trees. When Mini-Stiles caught up and turned where he had, Older-Stiles was gone.
> 
> Mini-Stiles twisted one way and then the other but there was no sign of his older self.
> 
> Just a long line of open doors hanging midair as far as he could see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for a precocious child sticking his nose into Stiles's past trauma's without context. Also panic, crying, and anxiety.
> 
> These children, I swear. And poor John. This chapter was all up in my feels this week.
> 
> Also, I haven't been able to go back and rewatch any episodes in a while, so if some of the canon details are off...my bad.

Mini-Stiles snuck into his room just after midnight.Stiles was still awake, unable to close his eyes as the minutes ticked by.He wanted to blame it on the two impromptu naps he’d had earlier.Naps always fucked with his sleep cycle if he indulged.But he knew it was the damn door.And those fucking vines, whatever the hell they were.

Sometimes he swore he could still feel them digging into his skin.Like razor wire, invisible, but wrapped so tight and cutting so deep they’d make him bleed out. 

Lydia had told him to solve it like a case.That meant not doing anything with the door until he’d laid everything out and studied all the angles, did some research, tried to make connections.Those were all activities best done while conscious.Which he would have gotten started on, except Dad had come in, taken the pen from his hand, and firmly pushed him toward bed.

“We all need sleep after the day we’ve had,” he’d said, no room for arguments.“Whatever you’re doing, it will still be there in the morning.”

Stiles had waited a good hour before he tried again, this time using a flashlight and pulling the covers over his head.It lasted a good twenty minutes.

Stiles always used to, jokingly, think that his Dad had a _Stiles Is Misbehaving_ radar.He had, to a point, but this Dad’s radar was tuned all the way to twenty tonight.The covers were pulled off his head and Dad stared down at Stiles in a way that made him feel like he was twelve and caught playing his Gameboy.

Dad held his hand out, expectant.With a sigh, Stiles gave him the notebook and pen.

“Do you need to come to my room so you’ll actually sleep?” he asked.

“No,” Stiles replied, petulant.

“Then go to bed.I’ll give this back in the morning.”Dad closed the notebook.“If I find you up again you won’t have a choice.You’ve already lost too much sleep the past few weeks, not to mention being sick.You.Need.Rest.”

Dad punctuated the last three words with a poke Stiles’s head.

Stiles slouched down in bed.“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll take the flashlight, too.”

Yeah, now he really felt twelve again.

So he laid there after Dad left and stared out into the dark as another couple hours went by.Twiddling his thumbs.Listening to the house settle and the wards hum.Sighing because his eyes wouldn’t close now that he had an ultimatum. Then he heard the patter of bare feet across the floor and his door creaked open.Mini-Stiles crept in and came up to the edge of the bed.He fidgeted there and Stiles heard the tell-tale shudder of him trying to steady his breathing.

“Nightmare?” Stiles asked.

Mini-Stiles startled a bit, but then he said, “Yeah.”A little scared.A little defiant.

Stiles scooted back and opened the covers.Mini-Stiles climbed in with his pillow and curled up in a ball, a sure sign he was really out of sorts. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

It was even chances on whether Mini-Stiles decided to tell Stiles about his nightmares.Most of the time he didn’t want to so they talked about other things until one or both of them fell asleep.Sometimes they were just quiet. 

Tonight, Mini-Stiles huffed and turned, punching his pillow into shape.

“Go to sleep,” he said, grousing, as if Stiles were the one who had come into his room and interrupted his late night brooding session.Stiles rolled his eyes.

But, with his younger self there, it was hard to keep staring into the dark when he was aware Mini-Stiles was waiting for him to go to sleep, too.Sometimes Stiles got the feeling that some of these nightmare nights had nothing to do with Mini-Stiles not being able to sleep and everything to do with him knowing Stiles wasn’t actually sleeping.

It brought back the things Mini-Stiles had said to Dad at the station.Stiles swallowed against the way his throat tightened up.Mini-Stiles had taken it upon himself to be a tiny protector to Stiles in a lot of different ways.Sometimes it was cute and heartwarming, others annoying and draining. 

Tonight it just made him sad and guilty. 

“Night, brat,” Stiles said, closing his eyes.

“Night, dumb ass.”

~

It took Older-Stiles _forever_ to actually go to sleep.Mini-Stiles himself almost fell asleep out of sheer boredom waiting for him to drop off.By the time Older-Stiles’s breathing had evened out and deepened, Mini-Stiles was struggling against the pull.But he couldn’t sleep.Not tonight.Not after what had happened and the obvious reality that his dumb ass older self still held on to so much stupid blame.

He had to do something about that.

Dropping into the dream was old hat by then.Mini-Stiles found his older self walking through the woods at a fast clip.Mini-Stiles huffed and went to follow him but he was faster.Mini-Stiles broke into a jog to catch up.

Older-Stiles turned on the path and went through the trees. When Mini-Stiles caught up and turned where he had, Older-Stiles was gone.

Mini-Stiles twisted one way and then the other but there was no sign of his older self.

Just a long line of open doors hanging midair as far as he could see.

“I can’t help if you keep disappearing on me,” Mini-Stiles grumbled.This wasn’t the first time it had happened, though it was the first time he’d ended up in this place.Mini-Stiles took a minute to look around.

The doors were all open and curved away into the forest.When he turned around the path he’d been on originally was gone and there were more doors stretching back. 

“This is the weirdest thing you’ve come up with yet,” Mini-Stiles said, but nothing about it seemed dangerous or scary.So, curious, he approached the nearest door and went inside.

He came out on the high school lacrosse field in the middle of a game.Mini-Stiles yelped and darted aside as two big, burly high schoolers thundered past him.Then he saw Older-Stiles run out onto the field.Even under the helmet he wore, Mini-Stiles noticed a stark difference.

This Older-Stiles was younger than he actually was now.His whole face was brighter, too, lacking the usual pinched lines of caution or unease.He was confused but elated, like he’d just won a prize.

“My son is on the field.My son is on the field!”

Mini-Stiles whipped around to look at the stands.Dad was there.An older version of Dad, who looked just as surprised and happy that Older-Stiles was playing, and shouting to the heavens about Stiles being on the field.

“Oh, my god, you dork, stop that,” Mini-Stiles said and sighed in relief when Mrs. McCall pulled Dad down to sit in the bleachers.Geez.

Mini-Stiles scrambled away from the action and watched as his older self got tackled several times, dropped the ball, and generally looked like the klutz that Mini-Stiles often felt like.He hissed in sympathy when his older self took another hit. Something, somewhere, had crunched.

The place shifted and then some tall kid was put on the field and he began taking out members of his own team, _Stiles’s_ team.He didn’t touch Older-Stiles, though, but then the tall kid got hurt somehow, not that Mini-Stiles could see because he was still much shorter than everyone else. And they kept getting in the way.He was taken off the field and an older Scott took his place.

Older-Scott could actually run and not die. He was pretty fast, too.

Mini-Stiles missed what happened next.At some point Older-Scott disappeared and then the ball landed at Older-Stiles’s feet.He scooped up the ball and, yelping in panic, took off toward the goal.Only to stop short and freeze while the other team bore down on him.

“What are you doing?!” Mini-Stiles cried out.

Everyone in the stands shouted at him, too.Older-Stiles managed to sling the stick and—he scored!

Mini-Stiles gasped as the crowd began to cheer, Dad loudest of all, clapping so hard he could have broken a couple bones.

The team clapped Older-Stiles on the shoulders and congratulated him.That was amazing, it was so cool!

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Mini-Stiles told his older self, who he realized was a memory and paid no attention to him.“You never said we were any good at this.I may have to try out with Scott, now.He wants to join the junior league even though he can’t actually run.”

Older-Stiles scored two more times— winning the game!— and when he looked over to the bleachers Mini-Stiles saw her. 

Lydia.The hair and the eyes and the smile were unmistakable.His heart stuttered in his chest.She was so beautiful, and she was smiling right at Older-Stiles!Older-Stiles had this goofy grin on his face, totally dorkish, but Mini-Stiles could forgive him.It was Lydia, after all.

Before he could bask too long someone shouted.Then someone screamed.In the middle of it someone said, “He’s dead!” The whole field went dark and Mini-Stiles was yanked into the shadows. 

The area shifted.Then light came back in and he was at the bottom of some stairs and looked up in time to see someone shove his older self down so he tumbled and landed at Mini-Stiles’s feet.He was still in his lacrosse uniform.

Mini-Stiles gasped but his older self didn’t stay down for long.He clambered back to his feet and turned the light on, then he looked behind Mini-Stiles in horror.

“Boyd, Erica!”

Older-Stiles surged over to two teenagers strung up by their wrists.They were gagged, but the blonde haired girl tried to speak.When Older-Stiles reached for her bonds he yelped and Mini-Stiles heard the distinctive buzz of electricity.

What happened next was like something out of an actual nightmare.An old man came into the basement and spoke to Older-Stiles in such a calm and easy manner, but there was something terribly cold in his eyes. 

The words the old man spoke were muffled.Mini-Stiles couldn’t catch anything specific, just the calm and coldness of the old man and an overwhelming fear that made him want to run away.But Older-Stiles stood up against him.Said something back. 

The old man hit him.

Mini-Stiles was too shocked to move as his older self got back up, was defiant again, and then backhanded.

Mini-Stiles launched himself at the old man but his fists only pummeled air.The old man had his older self down on the ground, one fist wrapped up in the front of his jersey, and punched Older-Stiles in the face.Older-Stiles was dazed, but he tried to fight back, only the old man was quick and precise, the same way Shawn was at the gym.He knew what he was doing.

Older-Stiles was a teenager and didn’t.Not at this time.

Eventually, the beating stopped.Mini-Stiles clenched and unclenched his fists while he hiccuped, angry tears running down his face.Something called the old man away.Older-Stiles lay in a crumpled heap on the floor chest rising and falling but unable to move.

The basement faded away and then they were standing at home.

Mini-Stiles followed his older self up the stairs.He heard Dad talking on the phone, worried, frantic.Older-Stiles shuffled to the doorway of his room and watched Dad pace, hand in his hair, the other holding a cellphone to his ear. 

“Come on, Stiles, where the hell are you?” Dad said to himself.

“Right here,” Older-Stiles rasped.

Dad spun around and his face went from shocked to relieved to horrified to angry in just two seconds.He crossed the room to Older-Stiles and moved his face from one side to another checking out the damage.

“Who did this?”

But Older-Stiles refused to tell him.He made up some lie about kids from the other team, about mouthing off, and Dad bought it.

Dad actually bought it.

Then, as Dad pulled Older-Stiles into a desperate hug and looked like he wanted to cry, Mini-Stiles heard the old man whisper, as if he were standing in the room, _Don’t even try telling your father anything.You think just because he has a badge that I can’t get to him?_

Mini-Stiles felt shame and fear bubbling up in his stomach that didn’t belong to him.

 _I can’t lose him, too,_ his older self thought.

Mini-Stiles couldn’t stand it.He stumbled away, back out of his room, and then he was outside the forest door again.Mini-Stiles ran away from it and then tripped over a tree root.He fell to the ground and curled up in a ball and cried.Because he felt it now.That undercurrent of loss and fear so deep it was like a river.And it wasn’t his but it stayed with him.

Mini-Stiles stayed there until he calmed down.Then he dried his face, picked himself up, and looked at the doors with a new kind of wariness.Every door led to a memory.A lot were bound to be bad and there was no telling which door Older-Stiles had gone through. 

Mini-Stiles couldn’t leave him here, though.He had to find him.Get Older-Stiles back to the park.Figure out a way to combat the misplaced guilt somehow.

It was a tall order. Monumental. He had no idea how to accomplish most of it but he had to try.

Mini-Stiles took several fortifying breaths and chose another one. 

~

Many doors later and Mini-Stiles was more confused than he could have ever imagined.He had witnessed Older-Stiles paralyzed and unable to move while a giant lizard made the Jeep crush a mechanic.Mini-Stiles had covered his eyes but he couldn’t drown out the sound and had run blindly back out the doorway again.

Then he ran with Older-Stiles through the high school while some hulked out wolf stalked him, Scott, Lydia, Jackson, and someone named Allison. The door next to that showed most of them back out in the woods and Older-Stiles threw a jar of something at the same wolf and _set it on fire._ And _Derek_ became an alpha.

Derek was also kind of a dick. Mini-Stiles had the strongest urge to go to Shawn and Laura and tell them because neither of them would have ever allowed him to be that mean. Especially when he smashed Stiles's face into the jeep's steering wheel.

If his older self could stop getting hit in the head that would be awesome. Mini-Stiles was exceedingly worried about how often it happened.

Jackson confused him. He actually turned into that lizard. _With scales_. He even had a tail! He was also a dick, but he was pretty much as Mini-Stiles would have expected him to grow up to be. And he died? Like, twice? But still ended up alive--and with Lydia, ugh-- and Mini-Stiles figured there was a lot of missing context between what he saw, and he had no idea what order those memories were supposed to be in.

Then he watched his older self be a complete and utter dork at Lydia’s birthday party until he started hallucinating.Mini-Stiles had cowered behind his older self’s memory, shocked and afraid as the hallucination of Dad blamed him for Mom’s death and ruining his life and…

And then he watched his older self go home that night.Watched him look in on Dad, who was asleep, and then quietly lock himself in the bathroom to have a panic attack while he tried to tell himself that it wasn’t real, it never happened, it was just his fear.And by the emotions drenching that memory, his older self tried to believe it but he really didn’t.

He skipped the next couple doors and tried one farther away.Maybe, he reasoned, his older self was looking at more recent memories than this.Maybe he went through a door that contained something good instead of something that only started good and ended up horrific.

He hoped.But he didn’t believe it, either.

The next door led into an animal clinic.Three horse tanks full of water and ice and green leaves sat in the middle of an exam room and—

Lydia held Older-Stiles under the water.She held him under. _He let her._ She pushed him down, kept him there, even when he thrashed, even when he stopped and the entire thing blacked out at the edges.

Mini-Stiles ran from that one, too, wheezing, wondering if he had a panic attack here if he would wake up or not.

He didn’t wake up.

He managed to stop the panic after a while. 

Then he entered a door and heard a word he’d discovered while trying to eavesdrop once on Dad and Older-Stiles, only he hadn’t known what it meant.He hadn’t been able to find it in the dictionary, either.

 _Nogitsune_.

There were two Older-Stileses.One who looked solid and walked around and hurt the people he loved and a transparent, ghost-like one who hovered just behind the solid one, screaming and threatening and crying and pleading for the other one to stop, just stop hurting his friends and family.

The solid one put a sword, an actual sword, through Scott and _twisted_ it while the ghost screamed in rage.The solid one tried to goad someone into shooting him while Dad tried to stop it and the ghost begged and begged.

There was more.There was so much more but it became something like a wet painting, all the colors and scenes smeared together, most not clear, the definitions skewed and blurry.Then, they came sharply back into focus in the hallway of the high school as the solid one stalked forward, toward the ghost who was also solid but pale as death and clinging to Lydia, who dragged them backwards.

“I’m a thousand years old _,_ ” the solid one thundered, the words vibrating through Mini-Stiles like an earthquake.“You can’t kill me!”

But Scott did.Scott bit him and someone stabbed _him_ with a sword this time and he crumbled into dust and became a fly and the edges went back for a minute and then Older-Stiles was on the ground looking up at everyone’s worried faces.

Mini-Stiles stumbled out of that door with shaking hands and had to sit down.He didn’t know what to think.He couldn’t even figure out how to feel because all his emotions overlapped with Older-Stiles’s emotions in the memories.He gazed down the never ending row of doors and shuddered. 

How many more contained bad things?How could he stand to have all this in his head, doors open, any of them ready to spill out?

How was his older self not completely insane from all of this?

Mini-Stiles breathed in deep and steeled himself again.He got up.Wiped his face.And started walking.This time he kept walking, going on and on past the doors, looking for something more recent, something different.

The doors slowly changed the further he went.More and more the doors themselves became less like actual doors and more like door-shaped holes in the fabric of the air.Mini-Stiles couldn’t begin to fathom what that might mean.Until he came to one completely out of place.This door was closed but it wasn’t a solid piece of wood.It was made of iron bars, thick and cold with a heavy chain padlocking it closed.Between the bars was darkness.

Mini-Stiles reached out for the lock.Something told him he wouldn’t need a key, all he’d have to do was touch it and the door would swing wide open.

A black gloved hand came down on his before he made contact.

Mini-Stiles jerked away and looked up.The figure beside him was taller and skinny and dressed all in black from a ski mask down to a dark jacket, pants, and shoes.But the eyes in the mask he’d know anywhere.They were his.

“Stiles?” he asked.And then the rest of his brain caught up.“This is what you looked like as the Shadow?”

It was...not as impressive as he'd imagined.

Shadow-Stiles tilted his head to the side, studying Mini-Stiles, curious.He huffed in amusement at the question.

“That’s not a door you want to open,” Shadow-Stiles said. 

Mini-Stiles gulped.“Is it worse than what I’ve already seen?”

Shadow-Stiles beckoned him away and held out his hand.Mini-Stiles took it.Screw acting grown-up, he was very glad to have someone else take charge for the moment.

“It’s not something that should ever come into the light,” Shadow-Stiles said.

Mini-Stiles glanced back at the iron bars.He thought he saw something move in the shadows, thought he heard something scrape and rustle.

“Is there a monster inside?”

Well, _another_ monster.It seemed most of Older-Stiles’s doors had a monster of some kind lurking inside.Even if it was a geriatric human.

Mini-Stiles tightened his grip on Shadow-Stiles’s hand.

“Yeah,” Shadow-Stiles said.“And you don’t need to witness it.”

Shadow-Stiles led him on past the rest of the doors until they finally ended.Then they were in the park. 

“You really shouldn’t be in here,” Shadow-Stiles said.“It’s not safe for you to wander around.”

They sat down on the bench.Shadow-Stiles was so out of place in the park.A dark spot where everything else was so much lighter.He held himself like a stray cat, wary and suspicious, ready to either run or bite, despite talking with so much surety.

“They’re all just memories back there, though.They can’t really hurt me.Right?”

Except to give him new fodder for nightmares in his own head, of course.

“Sometimes they can.Sometimes they remember how to breathe and leave the rooms.You don’t want to meet those.They find their way into dreams and, trust me, they become worse.”

Mini-Stiles didn't even want to imagine that.

“Is that what you are?”

Shadow-Stiles laughed.It was soft and quiet, his shoulders shook a little and his eyes crinkled.It was so weird not to be able to see his expressions.

“I’m not old enough to be a memory, I’m still alive under the skin.”

Mini-Stiles hesitated.“You won’t hurt me, will you?”

“No,” Shadow-Stiles said, so firm and absolute that Mini-Stiles believed him completely.“My purpose is to protect you and Dad.Protect the pack that’s not a pack here.Protect Beacon Hills.Watch over the Hales.In that order.”

“What about Stiles, though?He needs someone to protect him, too.Especially in here.We should probably find him together.”

Shadow-Stiles made a negative noise.

“He’s not my priority.And he’s not coming back here so it’s time for you to wake up.”

Mini-Stiles didn’t have time to argue back.Shadow-Stiles placed a gloved finger in the center of Mini-Stiles’s forehead and tapped him, hard, and—

Mini-Stiles flailed and fell out of bed with a strangled yelp.A second later, Older-Stiles came out of the bed with a blood curdling scream, stumbling away to a corner where he knocked his shoulder pretty hard and half crouched, hands up to protect his face, ready to strike at some unseen enemy.His eyes were clouded in a haze of fear that sharpened when they fell on Mini-Stiles.

Older-Stiles dropped his defensive stance and scrambled over to him, hands reaching out before he shuddered and pulled them back, guilt flushing his face.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry.I’m so sorry.Did I hit you?Shit.Shit.”

His hands hovered over Mini-Stiles like he wanted to help him up but never made contact.

Before Mini-Stiles could answer Dad burst into the room, dressed in his pajamas, service pistol in hand.

“What’s going on, are you okay?”Dad glanced rapidly around the room for a threat and took in the sight before him.

“I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry, it was an accident,” Older-Stiles blurted out as he backed away from Mini-Stiles, hands up in surrender.

Dad had already lowered his gun and there was heartbreak and worry on his face as Older-Stiles made himself smaller, less threatening.As if he’d been threatening to begin with.

Mini-Stiles pushed off the floor and untangled himself from the blankets.

“You didn’t do anything,” he said, harsher than he intended to.Older-Stiles flinched.“I startled _you_.”

“You...what?”

“What happened?” Dad asked asked again.He flicked the safety on and put the pistol on the dresser.

“I rolled off the edge of the bed.It startled him awake.You didn’t hurt me,” he directed the last bit at Older-Stiles.“I landed on the carpet, I’m not even bruised.”

Older-Stiles glanced at his face, to his cheek.Mini-Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“That wasn’t you, either.”

Dad ran his hand over Mini-Stiles’s head, checking him, and then moved on to Older-Stiles.He stopped short of him and held his hand out.

“It’s okay, kiddo.”Dad’s voice was soft.“He said he was alright.Come here and you can check him yourself.”

Older-Stiles hesitated but then he took Dad’s hand.Dad reeled him in for a firm hug and murmured something that made Older-Stiles’s breath hitch.Dad gestured for Mini-Stiles to go to his older self.

“See?Hundred percent.”Mini-Stiles held his arms out and gave a sarcastic twirl. 

Older-Stiles reached for him and then aborted the movement.“Okay,” he said, mostly to himself.“Okay.I’m gonna...”

He gestured and then skirted around both of them to go to the bathroom.Dad ran a hand over his face and sighed.Mini-Stiles eyed the gun.

“I’m starting to think we get all our drama from you.”

Dad gave him a flat look.“One of my children screamed like he was being murdered.What would you have expected me to do?”

“Not go James Bond in your underwear, that’s for sure.”

“I’m wearing sweatpants.”

“Potato, po-tatertots.”

Dad trapped Mini-Stiles into a headlock that turned into a tight hug and a kiss on the top of his head.“You’re really okay?”

Mini-Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Dad.I was already on the ground by the time he went all—“ Mini-Stiles flailed around in an accurate startled octopus impression.“I banged my elbow, but that’s all.”

Dad shook his head.“Come on.We might as well get started on breakfast.”

“It’s still dark outside.”He squinted at the clock.Five-forty-seven was _way_ too early to be conscious.

“Are you actually gonna go back to sleep after that?”

Mini-Stiles and Dad had a small stare-down.

“Probably not,” Mini-Stiles conceded.

“Exactly.”

Dad locked his gun back up and sent Mini-Stiles downstairs while he went to go check on Older-Stiles, who was still locked in the bathroom.Mini-Stiles sighed and let himself slouch in one of the kitchen chairs while he had a moment of privacy.

He needed to get to his secret protocols notebook and write down everything that happened.Gosh, there was so much, he didn’t want to lose any details.That episode had been so different from all the other times.

Mini-Stiles swallowed against the tightness in his throat.He knew he’d seen a lot of stuff he probably shouldn’t have.Especially all the scary and sad stuff.And he didn’t know what to think about Shadow-Stiles, either.He wasn’t a memory, but not quite Older-Stiles himself?Because Older-Stiles surely would have remembered talking to Mini-Stiles, realized that Mini-Stiles hadn’t belonged there upon waking, right?Except he hadn’t.

It was enough to cause a headache.

At least Older-Stiles had woken up around the same time Mini-Stiles had, but he wished it would have been less frightening for him.He had enough of that stored up for several lifetimes.

Breakfast was a subdued affair when everyone made it down.Dad cooked omelets and toast.Older-Stiles hunched over his plate to pick at it like a bird.But he finished it.Dad was satisfied.

“I’ll do the dishes,” Older-Stiles volunteered when they were done.

Dad held out his hand.“I appreciate that, but don’t go anywhere afterward.I think today is the day we’re all going to have a lot of conversations.We’re overdue on several counts.”Dad waited until they both nodded their acknowledgement.“You can get started on those while visit with Mischief, then I’ll come and get you.No one is in any trouble,” he added, more for Older-Stiles than anything.

Older-Stiles nodded but kept his eyes lowered. Mini-Stiles had the strongest urge to kick him to snap out of that undeserved funk.Dad gestured for Mini-Stiles to follow him and they went to his office.

“I thought you said we weren’t in trouble,” Mini-Stiles said as Dad closed the door.

“This is just for privacy.When we’re done he gets a private talk, too.Then we’re all talking together.”

“That’s an awful lot of talking.”

“It might take all day,” Dad agreed.“If it does then that’s all we do until everything gets straightened out.”

Dad cleared off a box of files from a fold out chair and had Mini-Stiles sit there while he got his office chair.Dad wheeled out closer so they were facing each other.Mini-Stiles fidgeted.He didn’t like talks that put him at the very center of attention, especially with closed doors.That made it feel like the principal’s office.

“I’m worried about you, Mischief.You’ve stopped coming into my room at night but you’re in Stiles’s more often than not.I don’t think you’ve slept in your own bed more than two or three times this entire month.”

Mini-Stiles squirmed and shrugged. That was a scarily accurate estimate. Though many times he was in and out of Older-Stiles's head with plenty of night still left. He often went back to his own room to finish out sleeping.

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“If you were fine you’d be able to sleep in your bed.So what’s going on?”

Mini-Stiles huffed and crossed his arms.Dad reached out and tugged a hand free.Squeezed it.

“You’re not in trouble,” he reminded him.“Are your nightmares getting worse?”

“I dunno.I still have them,” he admitted.

“Can you tell me about them?”

“You already know what they’re about.”

“What happened in the preserve,” Dad said.

Mini-Stiles nodded.Scratched his nose.

“What happens in the dreams?”

“It’s nothing like what really happened,” Minni-Stiles hedged. 

There were so many things on the tip of his tongue waiting to come out.The dreams, sure, but everything he just saw in Mini-Stiles’s head, too.Dad could probably help Older-Stiles better if he’d seen some of the things Mini-Stiles just had.

But if he told Dad about that he would have to admit everything else.He’d have to tell Dad about the secret protocols.And the regular protocols.Deep in his gut he knew Dad would have a capital-P Problem with what he’d done.And he was already on thin ice because of the punching incident.His stomach clenched up.

When had his simple mission gotten so complicated?

“It’s okay, buddy,” Dad assured him.

Stiles sniffled and decided he could tell Dad about his own dreams.That’s what he was asking for anyway.

“I’m in the trunk with him,” Mini-Stiles said.“But he’s already drowned and not breathing and I don’t know CPR.I keep telling magic to save him but it doesn’t and he stays dead.”

By the time the words finished coming out of him his face was itchy and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

“Magic?” Dad asked.

“It saved him the first time but never in my dreams.”

Dad sat up a little.“What do you mean, the first time?”

Mini-Stiles blinked.“At the preserve when—when Derek and I got there.I kept thinking that he had magic and he needed to live and I wanted him to breathe.But he was dead, Daddy.He wouldn’t breathe he just kept staring at the sky and I—“ Mini-Stiles’s took a shuddery breath.“I thought that, if I had magic, I didn’t care if it took it all or not, I just wanted it to save him.I said it had to.But in my dreams he stays dead and nothing happens and we're just trapped in there.”

Dad gathered Mini-Stiles up like he was a baby and he found himself crying into Dad’s shirt, his fists bunched in the material, while Dad tried to soothe him.

“I’m so sorry, Mischief.I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner,” Dad said.“But you both got out.You’re both going to be okay.”

“I know that,” Mini-Stiles said miserably.“But I’m still so mad.”

“At me?”

Mini-Stiles reared back and glared through his tears.“No!”

“Mr. Lahey, then?” Dad guessed. 

Mini-Stiles sighed and wished the conversation was over.

“No.I mean, yes.Definitely yes, he was _evil_.But that’s not the problem.”

“What is?”

“I’m mad at Stiles and I don’t want to be but I can’t help it.”

He never felt more like a baby when he was crying and couldn’t stop.Mini-Stiles hid his face for all the good it did.Dad ran a hand up and down his back.

“Why are you mad at Stiles?”

Mini-Stiles’s lip trembled and he bit it.So many things tried to come up his throat but, in that moment, thinking about the trunk and his dreams and what actually happened in it, everything boiled down to the center.

“He wouldn’t promise,” he said.And Dad did that thing where he just watched him and waited for him to keep going.“In the trunk, I told him he had to promise me he wouldn’t die.He wouldn’t promise.He just said he’d do everything he could to stay alive.That wasn’t a promise and I—I—“

Mini-Stiles made a growling noise in the back of his throat, something he’d heard Laura do when she was annoyed.

“I’m angry him for that.”The confession slipped out in a whisper.It surprised him as much as Dad.At least he thought so.Dad was a blurry blob in his eyes.“But I don’t want to be.It makes me so mad at everything.At him.And he won’t get mad at _anything_.Why wouldn’t he just promise me?He just gave up.”

Mini-Stiles had not set out to say any of that aloud.He wanted to take it all back because he really didn’t want to be angry his older self for any of that but just thinking about what Older-Stiles had said, how his voice had sounded, made Mini-Stiles want to punch and push and pull and tear and break everything around him.

Dad became a warm blanket around Mini-Stiles and held onto him for the longest time.Mini-Stiles let him.It was kind of nice after everything that he’d seen in his older self’s head.Which also made him more confused because Older-Stiles had survived all of that and even more.Why wouldn’t he have thought he could survive another evil old man?He had _magic_ and guts and bravery.He’d taken on an omega werewolf, for crying out loud!

Why couldn’t he have promised to make it through for Mini-Stiles?

“I need you to listen to me, Mischief,” Dad said, interrupting his thoughts.“Please listen because what I’m about to say is going to be hard to hear.It may take you a long time to understand it but you should know it and maybe it can give you some perspective, okay?”

Mini-Stiles nodded into Dad’s shoulder.

Dad inhaled deep and exhaled slow. 

“He didn’t give up.He fought very hard to keep himself alive until you could bring help to him.But he also knew there was a possibility he wouldn’t last that long.And he made a choice in that trunk.He chose not to lie to you.Even though it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, even though it could have been the last thing he ever said to you.”

Mini-Stiles squeezed his eyes shut.

“If I had to hazard a guess, I think he did that so he didn’t have to risk breaking a promise to someone he loved.”Dad maneuvered Mini-Stiles so he could look him in the eyes.“And you’re wrong.He is angry but he’s also dealing with a lot of other issues right now so that anger is sometimes buried, and sometimes it comes out in ways that don’t look like anger to us.Sometimes he’s too busy dealing with the other stuff that what’s actually going on around him may not register as much as it does for you.”

Mini-Stiles said, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know.It may not for a long time.”

“I wish he’d just lied to me.”

All Mini-Stiles had wanted was to know things would be okay.He had just wanted to hear Older-Stiles say it so _he_ didn’t have to keep being afraid.

“If he had, you would still be angry with him.He wouldn’t have been able to keep that promise, through no fault of his own.He did the best he could and so did you.”

Mini-Stiles couldn’t say anything to that.It didn’t help the mixed up feeling or what happened in his own dreams.He didn’t like having all that mangled up inside him.

“Even after all of that, you still go to his room when you have one of those nightmares?” Dad asked.

Mini-Stiles nodded.He felt Dad smile.

“Sometimes he needs it, too,” Mini-Stiles said, just in case Dad got the wrong idea that it was all for Mini-Stiles.

“I’m sure he does.Which brings us to this morning.”

Oh, great.

“I already told you what happened.”

“I know.But it worries me.”

Min-Stiles huffed and sat up so he wasn’t being cuddled anymore.Dad let him go and Mini-Stiles went back to his chair.

“I startled him, okay?That was me.”

“I know.But I think it would be wise if you didn’t go to his room to sleep for a while.”

“But Dad, I—“

Dad held up his hand.“Just listen, please.”

Mini-Stiles shut his mouth.

“Even though he didn’t hurt you this morning there is the possibility he could another time.If you manage to startle him during the wrong nightmare, at the wrong time, he could react before he’s fully awake to protect himself.He wouldn’t mean to, but it could happen.”

Mini-Stiles pursed his mouth. 

“You come to me if you have a nightmare and don’t want to sleep in your own room. If, for any reason, you need to go into his room while he's asleep, you need to get his attention at a distance until he wakes up. Knock on the door, call his name, something that keeps you out of kicking or hitting range. Don't go sneaking in there."

Mini-Stiles clenched his hands. This ruined everything.

“Dad, this hasn’t ever happened before today.”

“And hopefully it never will again.But I don’t want you getting hurt and I don’t want to put him in a position where he could do so by accident.He’s already feeling guilty enough, as well as scared.”

Dad was so serious that Mini-Stiles knew he wouldn’t be able to wheedle out of those stipulations.Not unless he wanted to get grounded for mouthing off.

With a sinking feeling in his gut he decided he'd have to be super mega careful and sneaky. Not to mention a lot smarter to keep going with the secret protocols.

“Okay,” he said, quiet.

Dad’s face softened.

“This isn’t me punishing either one of you, okay?It’s as much for his protection as it is yours.Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

Dad patted his knee.

“Is that all the talking?” Mini-Stiles asked, hopeful.

Dad gave him a look of sympathy.

“No.The next thing I’d like to say is it would be good if you told him you are mad about him not making you that promise.”

Mini-Stiles’s head shot up.“What?Dad, no.That would only hurt him.We’re trying not to do that, remember?”

“It’s hurting you, too,” Dad pointed out.“And knowing might help him help you through it.Preferably before either of you has a blowup.”

Mini-Stiles scoffed.“How?He’s still worse off than me about all this.He needs us to help him, not the other way around.”

Dad was silent for a few minutes.It made Mini-Stiles twitchy.He fidgeted in his seat and picked at his nails.

“That’s not really fair, you know.”

“What?”That certainly hadn’t been what Mini-Stiles expected him to say.

“It’s not fair to either one of you.He doesn’t know why you’re really so mad and he doesn’t know he’s at the center of it.If you keep it all to yourself then it sits in your stomach and in your head and it never gets any better for you.Stiles can’t take responsibility for causing it, and he can’t take responsibility to help, and you can’t receive the help from him.It’s not fair.”

“But we’re supposed to take care of _him_ ,” Mini-Stiles said.“He’s ours.That’s our job.”

Dad gave him a strange sort of sad look Mini-Stiles had never seen before.

“Yes, but we belong to him, too.That comes with certain responsibilities on his end.He can’t do them if we don’t let him.”

“What responsibilities?”

Dad turned around and opened one of the desk drawers.He pulled out a notebook and flipped it open.

“When he and I went to the cabin to straighten things out, this is what we worked on.”

Dad gave the notebook to Mini-Stiles.On it were two lists, each one labeling responsibilities for Dad and for Older-Stiles.Older-Stiles’s side was a lot shorter than Dad’s.Dad reached over and tapped one of the lines.That line read, _Be a big brother to Mini-Stiles._

“Brother.”Mini-Stiles tried to word out.“I hadn’t really thought of him like that.”

Dad said, “Would you be okay with it?”

Mini-Stiles didn’t answer right away.He’d always wondered what it would be like to have siblings.He figured Scott was the closest he would ever come.But Scott went home to his own family every night so it wasn’t quite like what he saw from other families who had more than one child.With Older-Stiles the term hadn’t crossed his mind because they were the same person.Well, different versions of the same person.

Interdimensional time travel made things like clear labels difficult.

“It would be okay,” he said.“But how would that work?Would it still be the same as what we’ve already been doing?”

Dad smiled.“That depends.What do you think a brother should be?”

Mini-Stiles bit his lip for a minute.

“My friend.”

Dad’s eyes were shiny and wet.“That’s a great start, Mischief.What else?”

Mini-Stiles tried to think about it.He’d told people at school that Older-Stiles was his cousin, because he was on paper, but Stiles didn’t know what cousins were supposed to be like either. 

“I don’t know.What did you want from yours?”

That question surprised Dad.His face grew thoughtful and, when he answered, it was slow and deliberate, as if he were testing the words as they came out, too.

“I wish mine could have been a friend to me, too.I would have liked to have been able to talk to him, about anything and everything.I wish he could have taught me to ride a bike or talk to girls or…”Dad sighed.“I would have settled for a lot less, but mostly I wish he could have loved me.Or even liked me.You’re already way ahead of me in that respect.Your brother loves you so much he can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

Mini-Stiles teared up. _Again_ , geez.

“What do you think he wants from me?”

“You’ll have to ask him.After he and I talk, maybe part of the talk you have with him can be making lists to figure that out.But I’m pretty sure, above everything, he just wants you to love him, too.”

“I already do.”

“It might help him to hear it, and see it, more often.”

That fell directly under the Hugs A Lot Protocol.Mini-Stiles waffled about it, but he thought back on what he’d seen through the doorways.The distance between Older-Stiles and his father, all the secrets he’d kept that crowded around him until it pushed everyone away.The loneliness and pain.

And he thought about recently, too.How Older-Stiles leaned into any affection given to him, especially Dad, like he had to take advantage before it went away.Mini-Stiles conceded that, more than maybe, it was probably definitely something worth throwing himself into.Obviously, Older-Stiles was prone to misinterpreting a lot of things and needed extra help to not do that.

If he framed it that way the protocol wasn’t near so tetchy.Dad would approve of it more than punching people, at any rate.

So, that was it.He was gonna do it.He was going to figure out the whole brothers angle thing and hug the shit out of his older self-- _his brother_ — while doing it.

God, this whole thing was gonna turn him into a Scott.

“Okay,” Mini-Stiles told Dad.“Can I go do that now or do you still need to talk?”

Dad snorted and pulled him foreward to place a big kiss on Mini-Stiles’s forehead.

“Yes, you can go do that now.Then I want you to get started on your chores while I've got him in here.Use that time to think about the brother question, okay?”

“Okay.”

Older-Stiles was still in the kitchen doing the dishes when Mini-Stiles came out of Dad’s office.His eyes were unfocused, like he was a million miles away, and he was running a soapy rag over the same dish again and again.Mini-Stiles steeled himself before he could out-think his nerves.

He tapped on Older-Stiles’s arm.

Older-Stiles blinked and looked down.He smiled a little, but he was worried.“Hey, short stack.”

“Up,” Mini-Stiles said.His throat had gone weird and itchy again.Words were incredibly hard all of a sudden and, well, he really should have thought of some first before he got Older-Stiles’s attention.“Up,” he said again, and shoved at Older-Stiles’s arm until he lifted it.

“What are you—“

He shut up when Mini-Stiles latched onto his middle and hugged him tight, burying his face in Older-Stiles’s side.Older-Stiles froze for a moment before he lowered his arm and tentatively hugged back.

Mini-Stiles huffed, annoyed.“Do you mean it or not?” he said, voice muffled.

Older-Stiles tightened his part of the hug.

Hugs had to last at least five seconds to be considered a bare minimum hug, according to Scott.Mini-Stiles counted to ten before he let go.Long enough that Older-Stiles had relaxed and leaned into it.

Then he wiped his runny nose on Older-Stiles’s shirt and ran upstairs before his older self could do more than say, disgusted, “Hey!”

He was pretty sure he heard Dad stifle a laugh before he got too far.Oh, well.Dad was a corny goofball, he didn’t have any room to talk.

No one followed Mini-Stiles so he dug out the secret protocols notebook and started a new page.

The _Being Brothers Protocol_ went at the top in big, bold letters.Mini-Stiles got to work fleshing it out and updating his progress, and all the new observations and questions, on the Fix Stiles Protocol page. 

He had a lot of work to do to help his brother.


End file.
